


Life at the Edge of a Blade

by BearstarSeraph



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Gen, Winter Olympics, figure skating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-18 12:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18699217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearstarSeraph/pseuds/BearstarSeraph
Summary: After an argument while watching the Winter Olympic Figure Skating Short Program competition, Yamcha challenges Vegeta to a competition at the local ice rink. Little does Yamcha know this simple bet will cost him everything.





	Life at the Edge of a Blade

**Author's Note:**

>   

**Day 1: Evening **

 

Vegeta had finally recovered enough from the explosion to get that damned Earth woman off his back. At least this infernal family finally agreed to switch out their scented cleansing chemicals. Why Earthlings used separate bars and gels instead of mixing the chemicals with the otherwise useless water spray was beyond him. Civilization on this tiny mud ball excuse for a planet was overly complicated.

 _“_ _That explains that woman…”_ an intrusive thought snuck into the back of his brain. Vegeta stopped mid-stride and violently shook his head.

“Oh Dearie, do you have water in your ears? There were cotton swabs in the medicine cabinet last I checked.”

Vegeta turned around and saw it was the air-headed mother, in a white polka-dotted dress of all things holding a large bowl of some kind of food from the smell of it.

“Oh wait, you’re not from Earth so you probably don’t even know what I’m talking about. Let me get this to the media room and I can…”

“I’m fine!” Vegeta barked.  

“Oh my, there’s no need to be like that.” Then she giggled, “Oh I get it now, you must be hungry. Oh! I’m so clueless sometimes. I didn’t see you glancing at the popcorn.”

She took the last few steps forward and held up the bowl. “Would you like some? This is your first time isn’t it?”

Vegeta tilted his head looking at either side of the bowl. “Where are the eating apparatuses?”

She tilted her head, “Eating appar– Oh! The silverware! You don’t need them, Dearie. Popcorn is a finger food.”

Vegeta tightened his stance and formed his fists at his sides. “But my first meal here, your daughter said using my fingers is barbaric and refused to serve me otherwise!”

“Well there is an exception to every rule, isn’t there? And popcorn is one of them. We eat it when we watch something entertaining.” She held the bowl up to him, “Here, have a taste.”

Vegeta sneered at the food, but did take a handful after a brief hesitation.

He rolled the kernels around in his mouth. _“Some kind of salty starch?”_ Vegeta thought.

“Well look who has a tiny smile on his face,” Mrs. Brief chirped.

Vegeta instinctively tightened his mouth muscles.

Mrs. Brief giggled, “Well if you want some more, come to the media room. It’s the figure skating competition for the Winter Olympics tonight.”

“Figure what now?” he asked confused.

“Oh, they don’t have figure skating in space?”

“Our worlds are literally light years apart,” Vegeta deadpanned frustrated at this planet’s insufferable ignorance.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Mrs. Brief held the bowl to her chest so she could put her right hand to her face. “Well let’s see here… Figure skating is basically dancing on ice.”

“Dancing… on ice… So, it’s basically a sport watching people fall on their asses?” _“And I thought this planet couldn’t get any dumber…”_ Vegeta thought rolling his eyes. He tuned her out.

“Well, sometimes there’s a few falls on the jumps but most of the time the skaters are able to keep their blades under them.”

Vegeta’s unconscious registered a bizarre word. “Blades… Wait what?”

“Well the blades on their skates of course.”

Vegeta’s face twisted in confusion, “What the fucking hell is a skate?”  

“Well, skates are boots with blades attached to the sole.”

Vegeta raised his hands about shoulder height. “Wait. Wait… Let me get this straight… There is a sport on this planet that is dancing… on ice… while balanced on the edge of daggers strapped to the bottom of their feet?”

“Basically yes.”

 Vegeta dropped his arms and formed his fists. “How the hell did this absurdity even get invented?!”

“I don’t really know,” Mrs. Brief said putting her hand back to her cheek. “I just know its really old. I’ve seen holiday cards with old drawing where the blades are made from wood.”

 _“Wood versus metal forging for a civilization this age…”_ Vegeta thought gripping the bridge of his nose as he contemplated the math. “I have to see this for myself…”

Mrs. Brief grabbed Vegeta’s arm and hooked hers in into the crook of his. “Oh, how wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I know Bulma will be so happy to see you! Come now, we are going to be late for the start.”

Vegeta cursed himself for accidentally saying that out loud but did not fight the weak Earth woman dragging him along.

~~***~~

“We’re here!” Mrs. Brief announced loudly walking into the room. Dr. Brief, Bulma, Yamcha and Puar turned around and were shocked to see Vegeta standing in the door.

“What is he doing here?” Yamcha glared.

Vegeta glared back crossing his arms.

“Now don’t be like that,” Mrs. Brief scolded walking around the side of the black-leather sectional. “Vegeta said there is no figure skating in space and he just wanted to see what it was.” She sat down between her husband and daughter. “Oh Vegeta, Dearie! Come sit down. There is plenty of room. No one is sitting on the lounge.”

“Bulma,” Yamcha whispered tilting his head towards the lounge.

Bulma nodded and the two moved to cuddle on the lounge.

“Oh, well…” Mrs. Brief stuttered. “Well you can sit between me and Yamcha now.”

“I can see the viewing monitor just fine from back here,” he said leaning against the wall next to the door.

“Oh! It’s starting,” Dr. Brief said excitedly.

Everyone turned to the TV and shifted deeper into the cushions.

~~***~~

“Oh, that poor girl,” Mrs. Brief said putting her hand to mouth.

“Yeah, they’re really overdoing it replaying the close-up of her ankle snapping like that,” Yamcha said.

Suddenly everyone gasped or yipped when they felt a weight press down the back cushions.

“Tsk. If something so trivial is bothering you, no wonder you’re such a worthless warrior.”

“Vegeta?! Wha- oh yeah…” Yamcha glared then returned to his divot in the sectional.

Vegeta smirked, “What? You all forgot I was here? Sorry I’m so forgettable.” He then leaned in and lowered his voice. “Or maybe I’m just that good at sneaking up on people before I destroy them.”

Vegeta unexpectedly found himself blindsided by a pillow to his face.

“Vegeta! Stop that!” Bulma yelled, lifting another pillow and pitching it at him.

“Well it looks like there will be an extended break before the men’s competition starts,” Mrs. Brief said standing up. “I’ll go make us more popcorn.” She quickly left the room.

“But seriously,” Vegeta chuckled, “you people are treating this like you just witnessed a hitman hired by a rival taking out one of the contestants.”

“Actually, that did happen couple years ago,” Dr. Brief sighed.

Vegeta’s head shot up. He looked at him. “Seriously?!”

The others murmured in agreement.

Vegeta stammered a few syllables before falling silent.

“I think the hamster just fell off the wheel,” Bulma whispered to Yamcha.

Yamcha nervously chuckled, then screamed when Vegeta jumped the back of the couch. Bulma instantly found herself on the ground behind Yamcha, who had taken a fighting stance.

“Calm down, coward.” Vegeta barked as he settled in his newly claimed seat. “Last I checked I was offered this seat by the matron of this estate.”

He turned to the television, giving no heed to the male yelling at him and the female yelling at the male. Eventually the two calmed down and returned to their previous positions.

“I’m back with… Oh Vegeta! I’m so glad you finally joined us,” Mrs. Brief said, walking back into the room carrying the two bowls stacked on top of each other. “I’m glad I decided to make you your very own bowl.” She walked around the side, “I know how much you Saiyans eat.”

Vegeta took the offered bowl then silently turned back to the TV.

The men’s competition started and the first few routines went off flawlessly.

“It seems the male expectations favor feats of strength and dexterity while females are judged by flexibility and agility,” Vegeta broke the silence.

“Why, yes. That’s about right,” Dr. Brief answered.

 Another dance goes by.

“Why does the speaker keep stating that four rotations are the limit of Earthling ability?” Vegeta asked frustrated.

“Because not everyone fights aliens for a living,” Yamcha scowled. “These are normal people. Now stop interrupting.”

Vegeta returned the scowl before looking back at the screen.

Bulma slid down and rested her head under Yamcha’s chin, not to get comfortable, but so she could watch Vegeta covertly.

She watched him stare intensely at the screen for the next two routines. The only movement she could see was his eyes following the current skate. She knew that face. _“He’s treating this like a battle. Why is he analyzing this so closely?”_  

“7.7”

Everyone else turned to Vegeta at his sudden statement. Yamcha sneered at that cocky-ass grin and quickly looked back at the screen.

“And Nikolay Zolotarev takes second place with an average of 7.7.”

Mrs. Brief placed both her hands on her cheeks. “Oh! Vegeta you guessed correctly! I thought you said there wasn’t figure skating in space?”

“There isn’t,” he answered harshly.

“Well, Vegeta is an athlete,” Dr. Brief said, “I’m not surprised he can understand the difficulty and can get the gist of what the judges want from the past competitors.”

“The next round is starting. Shut up,” Vegeta barked.

“7.3” Yamcha suddenly said as the next skater left the ice. He smirked at Vegeta, baiting him.

 Vegeta glared back at him briefly before turning back to the screen. “6.9. That one jump landing wasn’t as graceful as it should have been.”

_“Oh what a disappointment… Just missing fifth place by a .1 with a 6.9. And listen to the crowd, they are not happy with that low score. Why do you think he didn’t crack the 7’s, Bob?”_

_“Well, it looks like he lost some presentation points on that triple Lutz, Steve. It wasn’t technically wrong, but his leg wasn’t in the ideal position upon exit. Probably would have been a 7.2 or .3 otherwise.”_

Vegeta glanced at Yamcha and grinned in a nonverbal “take that”.

Yamcha glared daggers into him then returned to the TV.

“7.2”

“7.3”

_“… with a 7.4”_

“7.5”

“7.6”

_“…And we have a new third place winner. Dou Wei with 7.6.”_

“And one more point for Vegeta,” Dr. Brief chuckled.

Bulma moved aside as Yamcha leaned forward to look at his future father-in-law. He saw him place a pen on top of a napkin.

“Are you keeping track?!”

“Why not?” Dr. Brief asked. “This is all in good sport anyway.”

Yamcha leaned backed forcefully into the cushions and crossed his arms.

_“And we have one more competitor left tonight in the Men’s Short Program, will he make it into the top five going into the Long Program?”_

_“Well, Steve, everyone is really bringing their A-game tonight. The top spread is really tightly packed. But if old Germany’s favorite son, Hans von Bingen, lives up to his dark horse reputation from winning his sector’s nationals, he’ll easily hit the top three.”_

Vegeta glanced at Dr. Brief, “I thought Earth was a single government system?”

“Hmm? Oh! That’s just a holdover name from before the unified government was born. The Olympics go back thousands of years and used to be between countries, now they are just between sectors.”

Vegeta looked back at the screen, “Then this ‘old Germany’ is an area that was once an independent nation?”

“Yeah,” Mrs. Brief cut in, “a lot of people are still proud of their old names even if their home doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Sweetie!” Dr. Brief warned as Bulma and Yamcha grimaced in terror.

“What?” she said tilting her head, “What did I say?”

Vegeta let a deep breath slowly out his nose and returned his attention to the TV.

_“What a performance folks! If the cheering from the crowd is any indication, the dark horse has ridden to victory again!”_

“Well, that kid’s in first place,” Yamcha turned to Vegeta. “So, what do you think the number will be?”

 Vegeta ignored him and continued to stare intently at the screen.

“Vegeta?” Dr. Brief asked after he remained unusually silent.

“I don’t think it’s a clear victory…” Vegeta said slowly.

“Oh really? Why do you say that?” Mrs. Brief asked.

“He… his feet kicked up more chips on two of his jumps compared to the others. I don’t know if it’s something about the texture of the ice or if he did something wrong…”

Several minutes passed.

_“It sure is taking a long time for the judges to decide on the score. Looks like von Bingen is getting antsy in the box.”_

_“I know, Bob, this is… wait it looks like the judges are punching their scores into the computers before being escorted out by security. I wonder what’s going on?”_

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me?!” Yamcha threw his arms in the air before running his hands through his hair.

_“And the results are in and — Fourth Place?!!! What the *BEEP*”_

_“The judges say he two-footed the landings on his quadruple jumps?! Control room. Where’s the replay?”_

Suddenly the volume bar appeared on screen and swiftly lowered.

“And we don’t need to be hearing this,” Dr. Brief said putting the remote down.

“Wow, Vegeta! I can’t believe you caught that,” Mrs. Brief said, “Those handsome eyes of yours do more than just make your face scary, don’t they?”

“Excuse me?!” Vegeta’s back straightened instantly. A hint of pink teased across his cheeks.

“Oh! I’ve had enough of this!” Yamcha stood and pointed his finger in Vegeta’s face, “You’ve completely ruined a perfectly good evening!”

“Vegeta hasn’t ruined anything,” Mrs. Brief interjected, “He’s been nothing but pleasant tonight.”

“I agree,” Dr. Brief said standing up. “If anything, you’re the one who’s been overreacting all evening.”

“How can you be taking his side?!”

“Last I checked, Vegeta was on our side. Remember the androids?”

“Boys, there is no reason to argue,” Mrs. Brief said, putting herself between them.

“Yamcha,” Bulma stood and put her right hand on his shoulder. “Let’s just go to bed.”

“Yes,” Puar said, “Let’s just go. Judging from the security in the stands, it’s over for tonight.”

Vegeta tilted his head to see past them. “Seems they are simply removing some of the louder ones,” he said looking at the TV. “Most people are still sitting.”

“Vegeta, I’ve been wondering. Why are you even here?” Bulma asked.

“Your mother invited me. I thought that was made perfectly clear at the beginning.”

“Then why did you say ‘Yes’?”

“I didn’t. She grabbed my arm and dragged me down the hall.”

Yamcha pointed at him angrily, “You’re one of the strongest people in the galaxy! No way she could budge you unless you let her yank your arm.”

Vegeta turned his head back to the TV. “Your women have a particular skill at yanking things.”

Mrs. Brief put her hand over her open mouth.

Dr. Brief tried to stifle a chuckle only to make a squeaking sound.

Bulma blushed and raised her shoulders, but Yamcha beat her to shouting.

“What the hell do you mean by that?!”

Vegeta grimaces. “What?!” he punched the cushions at either side of his knees before placing the popcorn bowl next to him and standing up. He confronted Yamcha, “What the fuck do you think I said?!”

“Vegeta, Sweetie,” Mrs. Brief lightly touched his arm.

Vegeta pulled his arm away. “No,” he said, briefly looking at her before turning back to Yamcha, “I’m sick and tired of all the looks I get every time I waste my breath answering your insufferable questions. What the fuck do you think I said?!”   

“You know exactly what you said!”

Bulma eyes widened. “Wait, Vegeta… Do you not know what a hand job is?”

Vegeta glared at her, “What does that have to do with anything?”

Bulma started laughing. “How can you…? You can’t be still… You’re our age!”  

“Fuck you!” Vegeta turned and shoved Yamcha, flipping him over the couch.

“Yamcha!” Bulma and Puar screamed and knelt next to him.

“Fuck you! Fuck all of you!” Vegeta stormed out of the room.

“This whole planet is stupid!” They heard him shout in the hallway before his curses becomes inaudible.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Bulma,” Yamcha said leaning up.

“Good,” Mrs. Brief said before quickly exiting chasing after Vegeta.

“You know, Bulma,” Dr. Brief stood, “Your mother and I didn’t know what a hand job was until we found those sex manuals stuffed in your mattress when you were 14.”

Bulma blushed, “You knew about that?!”

“Of course we knew,” he lowered his brows, “But it wasn’t strictly porn so we simply decided to trust that you would make the right decisions. But even if he is a virgin like you think, a person saving himself is nothing to mock. Our wedding night was my first time, and that was not for the lack of trying from women throwing themselves at my feet after I got a few zeni in my pocket. Alien or not, I’m sure any royal prince has dealt with the same thing.”

“And you, Yamcha,” Dr. Brief turned to him. “You were nothing but belligerent tonight. Vegeta actually made an effort to socialize, and you took the seat my wife gave him, tossed my daughter across the room when he sat down where you forced him to, then instigated an argument. And Vegeta only parroted back the same words you said to him, like he always does when people talk to him, and he clearly didn’t realize the innuendo. You chose that word, and you should have known he would use it back to you. You baited him.”

“You laughed at it.” Yamcha shot back.

“And you escalated it!” Dr. Brief unexpectedly raised his voice. He pointed at the door, “If you want to watch the rest of the Olympics, do it on your own TV. Get out of my media room!”

“Dad!”

“My house. My rules.”

“Let’s just go, Yamcha,” Puar flew between them, “It’s getting late.”  

“All right, Puar. Let’s go.” Yamcha walked from the room shoulders square and his head held high.

Dr. Brief turned and watched them leave. He sighed, then picked up the two bowls, “Be a shame to waste the popcorn.”

“Dad,” Bulma confronted him, “I’ve never heard Vegeta repeat words like you said.”

“Your mother and I have,” his frustration sneaked into his voice, “And so has Yamcha. Your mother thinks it’s adorable that Vegeta’s shy, but I think he’s trying not to say anything stupid to humiliate himself, like he did tonight. Yamcha baited him. End of story.” Dr. Brief turned and exited the room   

Bulma quickly followed. “But I’ve —”

He stopped and turned. “I do not know why Vegeta treats you differently, Bulma. Ask him tomorrow once he’s calmed down.”

“I’m back, Sweeties.” Mrs. Brief picked up speed and jogged up to them. “Vegeta is doing better.” She put her hands on her cheeks and wiggled, “And he has the most adorable blush. Oh, he’s such a cutie.” She then stopped and looked around. “Where’s Yamcha and Puar?”

“I ordered them the leave and banned them from watching the rest of the games with us.”

She put her hand to her mouth, “Oh dear. Vegeta’s heading to the patio.”

“Hey I’m not done with you yet!” They heard Yamcha shouting off in the distance.

“And they found each other…” Dr. Brief sighed, “That boy just can’t let things drop.” He pushed the two bowls to his wife and walked briskly down the hall.

Bulma quickly followed.

“Oh dear. Oh dear.” Mrs. Brief went into the media room to put the popcorn down then went after them.

~~***~~

“I told you! I don’t care if it’s tradition here. Dancing on ice with knives tied to your feet is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of.”

“For something so ridiculous, you were pretty interested!”

“You people kill over this game! You defy your ‘Thou shalt not kill’ gods, and actually kill over this farce! Did you really think I wouldn’t pay attention after that! To try and figure out what the big deal is!”

“No one died, Vegeta,” Yamcha ran his hands through his hair exasperated. “The girl wasn’t even injured enough to miss the Olympics that year.”

Vegeta’s eye twitched. “Why am I not surprised your race can’t even pull off a simple assassination right.” He turned and began to walk back the way he came.

“Hey, I’m not done with you yet!” Yamcha shouted. He grabbed Vegeta’s arm.

Vegeta slammed him into the wall. He floated in the air to pin him with his left arm against his neck.

“Yamcha!” Puar screamed.

“You’re lucky I can’t afford to kill you right now, Earthling,” he hissed.

“Vegeta! What are you doing?! Let him go!” Bulma shouted as she and her father arrived.

Vegeta growled as he gave one last sharp shove into the wall before relenting and floating down.

“Your bastard started it. I ended it,” Vegeta said looking sideways at Bulma. He turned to Dr. Brief. “And you could have mentioned the target survived the assassination attempt mostly uninjured. And here I thought your planet was getting less boring.”

“Just because they didn’t succeed in breaking her legs didn’t change anything about their prison sentences when they were caught. It was damn luck.”

Vegeta’s eyes widened. _“Did he just curse?!”_

“Come on, Darling. Leave your anger in the media room,” Mrs. Brief said holding her hands on her heart.

Dr. Brief took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looked at Yamcha. “So then, you were leaving my premises?”

Vegeta realized what was happening and got a sick grin. He turned and smiled at Yamcha. “Yeah, Yamcha. Weren’t you leaving the premises?”

Suddenly there was a blur in the corner of his eye. Vegeta stepped back and grabbed the offending arm. He saw the white skin and perfect nails. He followed the arm to the offending face. He blinked at Bulma. “Did you just try and hit me?”

“Let her go, asshole!”

Vegeta let her go and grabbed Yamcha’s fist. He smirked with an idea, “Oh really. Would you rather I have let her break one of her pretty little nails on my face?”

Bulma blushed.

Yamcha threw another punch. Vegeta caught it with his other hand. He pressed with everything he had but Vegeta was an unmovable rock with a widening smirk all over its face.

“How many times are you planning for me to humiliate you today?”

Yamcha sneered. Then shockingly began to laugh. “You, humiliate me? Don’t make me laugh. You just got lucky today.” He stopped pressing and put his hands on his hips, “If you think you’re so smart about skating let’s head to the ice rink tomorrow. You and me. I bet I can skate circles around you and you’ll spend the day falling on your ass.”

“Are you fucking serious?!” Vegeta asked surprised.

“I am fucking serious.”

Vegeta turned his head. “Tsk. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” He turned and begins to walk away.

“Didn’t think the Prince of all Monkeys was a coward.”

Vegeta froze.

“Yamcha!” Puar tugged on his shoulder.

Bulma stood in front of him and punched him in the chest. “Are you crazy?!”

Vegeta glared over his shoulder. The rage in his eyes made everyone nervous. He slowly turned around. Then, he smirked. “Fine. I’ll take that bet. What’s the prize?”

“Winner gets to watch the Olympics here with the Briefs.”

“Now see here—” Dr. Brief began.

“Naw. That’s not good enough,” Vegeta ignored him. “Loser has to wear one of those frilly dancing outfits those women were wearing for a week.” He chuckled evilly, “And don’t worry. I plan to make you keep it.” Vegeta punched his palm.

“In your dreams,” Yamcha scoffed.

“You could _never_ survive my dreams,” Vegeta laughed as he turned around, then walked away.

 “Yamcha, since when can you figure skate?” Bulma asked.

“What? We used to skate on dates all the time.”

“Um, that wasn’t Bulma,” Puar whispered.

Bulma started screaming. “I’ve _never_ been skating with you. Who have you been skating with?!”

Yamcha started sweating, “Well, look at the time…”

Bulma grabbed his shirt in both her fists. “Don’t you _dare_ run out on me!”

Dr. Brief sighed as his wife played peacemaker and began to walk away. He spotted Vegeta at the end of the hall eating popcorn.

“What are you doing?” he asked when he reached him.

“What? Your wife said Earthlings eat this when they watch something entertaining?” He extended the bowl, “Want some?”

** Day 2: Morning **

“I’m home!”

Dr. Brief looked up from his chair, folded his newspaper and placed his cigarette in his ashtray. “Welcome home, Sweetie. Where were you off to this morning?”

“Oh, I went to the public library,” she said reaching into her cloth tote. She pulled out a children’s book, judging by the shape and cover art.

“‘My First Skates’, huh? You know Vegeta can’t read our language?”

Mrs. Brief waved her hand up and down with the book still in it, “Oh I know, Sweetie.” She put it back in the bag, “Don’t worry. I got ones with lots of good pictures. I mean, if I can understand what’s happening from them, then I’m sure someone as attentive as Vegeta can figure things out.” She walked off.

Dr. Brief opened up his paper again and picked up his cigarette.

~~***~~

Mrs. Brief grabbed the industrial earmuffs off the wall and walked into the loud experimental manufacturing shop. She saw Bulma’s back as she worked on preassembling the new gravity machine as other workers assembled the new ship.

She tapped Bulma’s foot with hers. “Oh Bulma, Sweetie! Do you have a minute?!”

Bulma looked over her shoulder. “Sure Mom.” She put her wrench down, stood up and raised her arms to stretch. She took her dirty gloves off and stuffed them into her jumpsuit’s pouch. Then she pointed to the door.

They walked into the hallway and Bulma pulled out her earplugs. “What’s up Mom?” She looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s not even 10 o’clock yet.”

“Do you know where Vegeta is?” she asked, putting her earmuffs back on the hook.

“Is he not training in the north side yard?”

“No.”

“East side yard.”

“No.”

“Back yard.”

“No.”

“By the auxiliary workshops?”

“No.”

“In the auxiliary workshops.”

“No.”

“Kitchen.”

“No.”

“Patio?”

“No.”

“Balcony?”

“No.”

“His bedroom?”

“No.”

“Any of the spare bedrooms?”

“No.”

“The bathrooms?”

“No.”

Bulma thought for several moments. “Come with me a sec,” she put her earplugs back in and walked back into the workshop. Mrs. Brief put the earmuffs back on and followed.

The two crossed the workshop and exited a door on the other side into the business section of the building. She used the master key on the touchpad to enter the nearest empty office and logged into the computer.

“What are you doing, Sweetie?”

“Checking the USGS live earthquake map. If Vegeta is smashing mountains somewhere, it’ll be a giant anomaly.”

Suddenly Mrs. Brief’s phone rang. She took it from her purse. “Oh, it’s your father. I wonder what he wants.” She put it to her ear. “What is it, Sweetie?”

“Did you forget to turn off the TV in the media room last night? It’s been on the figure skating channel. Oh? Wait. Someone just started a skating tutorial on stream.”

“I bet I know who that is!” she singsonged. “Thank you, Sweetie.” She hung up. “Vegeta’s in the media room watching figure skating.”

Bulma jumped from the chair. “What?! How! He’ll break the equipment!”

“Have a little more faith in him,” she said, putting her phone away. “You two had the same faith in me when we got the cable boxes,” Mrs. Brief put her hand in front of her mouth and laughed, “but I was the one who figured out how to use the voice commands first and had to teach you.”

Bulma rubbed her temples imagining Vegeta screaming at the TV and the voice commands triggering. “Vegeta IS nothing but one big accident…”

“There is nothing wrong with accidents, Bulma.” Mrs. Brief scolded. “Afterall, you’re even more of an accident than he is. Crown Prince usually means first born, doesn’t it?”

She walked out with her head held high, leaving Bulma with her mouth open.

~~***~~

“Stop. Repeat previous section.”

_“And now we will discuss how to do an Axel. This is the most difficult jump to do as it requires an extra half rotation, so you’re basically doing the next jump above. A double counts as a single, a triple becomes a double, and so forth…”_

Vegeta stood in the dark, the furniture hastily pushed to the side. He lifted his left foot and positioned his arms like the instructor on screen. He spun and jammed his left toe into the carpet.

“Vegeta!” Bulma charged in and threw on the lights. The program automatically paused. Vegeta was mid rotation. He opened up the spin and quickly landed squat to the ground, his legs spread and bent to spring forward, his left palm pressed to the carpet and an energy ball cupped in his right hand.

“Woman!” Vegeta shouted, letting the energy ball dissipate, “Are you crazy?!” He stood, “Don’t do that!”

“What did you do to my couch?!” She ran over.

“All your property is undamaged,” Vegeta said annoyed, turning as she ran past.

“Vegeta, Dearie!” Mrs. Brief poked her head in and saw the paused screen. “Awe, I knew you’d be doing this,” she said as she walked in. “You take everything you do so seriously.” She pulled out “My First Skates”, “I went to the library this morning and got a few skating books with lots of pictures. But I see you’ve found another way to learn. Did you still want to take a look?”

Vegeta turned his head and nodded. “I’ll examine them later.”

She put the book back in her bag, “I’ll put these in your bedroom then.”  

Bulma sighed in relief and walked over to the cable boxes.

“Since when have I ever broken any of your property?” Vegeta turned to face Bulma. “The worse I’ve done was blow up MY ship. And that barely singed your grass.” He crossed his arms, “First you’re paranoid over my injuries. Then you pivot on a quark and become paranoid over me injuring your possessions. Make up your goddess-damned mind for once and stick with it!”

“You’re careless, Vegeta,” Bulma said, standing and turning around to face him. “That can cause injuries to both yourself and others. There is nothing to pivot on.”

Vegeta glared at her. “First, you show yourself an ally. Then you become an enemy. I say that’s a rather big pivot.” He stormed out of the room.

“What the hell is he talking about?”

“Maybe he means you were being really nice to him but now you’re not,” Mrs. Brief said. “I don’t think he understands why.” She followed him out the door.

~~***~~

Vegeta was looking through the fridge.

“Would you like me to cook something?”

He stood up and saw Mrs. Brief. He then looked at the clock. “The two arms won’t combine for some time still.”

She placed her bags on the table. “Still. You should eat and rest before we leave. You haven’t been this active in a few weeks and don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re out of breath.”

Vegeta sat down as Mrs. Brief began opening cabinets. “I won’t refuse the food.”

“I knew you wouldn’t,” she said taking bread mix off the shelves. “How about some breaded chicken?”

“I said I won’t refuse the food.”

“Alright then, Dearie.” She walked to the fridge. “I know Bulma can be rude,” she said pulling out the eggs. “But she does care about your wellbeing. You may not remember this because you passed out, but before you collapsed, she was screaming at you for almost blowing up the house. Just because she’s being difficult doesn’t mean she’s an enemy, as you put it.”  

Vegeta stared at the table while Mrs. Brief prepared the chicken.

Bulma had cleaned up and was in jeans and a halter top. She was about to walk into the kitchen.

“Why have you, and now your husband betrayed your unit to side with me? And not just in this instance; there have been others.”

Bulma stopped and leaned against the wall next to the door hiding in the shadow.

Mrs. Brief turned around. “What do you mean, Dearie?” she tilted her head confused.

“I understand the material military support, we are allied for the next three years, but you have openly exposed the lack of cohesion in your unit. Hell, even its massive fracture points. Why?”

“Oh Vegeta, our family’s not military,” she giggled. “We’re civilians.”

Vegeta looked confused. “… Is that a word in your language for non-combat support?”

“No, we’re not part of the government.”

“Then why are you living so openly if you are deserters or rebels?” he asked urgently. “Are you that powerful?”

“Vegeta… Is there really nothing like civilians in space?”

“Would we be having this conversation otherwise?” he asked, exasperated.

“Hmm…” Mrs. Brief thought of how to best explain this. “… A civilian is anyone who is not specifically soldier in the military, but most people use it as anyone who doesn’t directly hold a job within the government. As long as you pay your taxes and obey some basic laws, civilians can do whatever they want.”

“Taxes are some sort of tribute or bribes?”

“Bribes are illegal, but if thinking of it as tribute helps you then yes, taxes are like tribute.”

Mrs. Brief turned back to cooking.

“Am I actually allowed to be here? Is any of this legal?”

“Oh, yes. Goku asked you to fight after all.”

“Then he is in the government?”

“Oh, yes. He’s married to Princess Chichi after all.”

“WHAT?!” Vegeta stood tipping over his chair. “That bastard’s royalty on this fucking pebble?!”

“When the unity government was formed, all the countries kept their former governments as sectors. That included royal families like the Ox King. And with Goku also being close to the planetary king, King Furry, you are perfectly safe.” She giggled, “So don’t worry that grumpy little head of yours.”

“Tsk.” Vegeta picked up his chair and sat back down.

There was another long silence.

“Are family bonds so easily broken? This may not be a military unit, but he’s still your offspring’s assigned mate.”

“Assigned? What do you mean by assigned?”

“Then the government doesn’t control mating here?”

“No, as long as both people agree to it, you can marry whoever you want.”

“Then there are no genetic controls here?” he asked, surprised.

“If there is a serious disease in the family, there can be testing to see if there’s a chance of transmission, but all that is private health care. Like how breast cancer runs in my family. I lost my mother, grandmother and three aunts to it.” She loudly clapped her hands once. “I was so happy to hear I didn’t have the genes. Tested my first girl when she was born too to be safe, she was clean too so I haven’t worried since.”  Mrs. Brief walked over and placed the plate in front of Vegeta. “Here’s the first two batches. I made enough for three, just need to get them in the oven.” She walked back and put more on the pan, “Finger food, by the way. Let it cool a little. Don’t want to burn your fingers.”

“If everything is free will, why the hell is your daughter with Yamcha of all males? Loyalty is obviously important as you keep life mates.”

“They’ve broken up and gotten back together several times. They’ve been fighting like this for years.”

“I highly doubt Bulma can’t find a better male than him, even if he can’t find a better female than her.”

“I don’t know this for sure,” she said uncharacteristically sad, “but I think she may still be clinging to some sense of destiny.”

“If being with a male like him is supposed to be destiny, I’d punch the god responsible in the face.”

“Oh! That reminds me,” she returned to her chipper tone, “Why did you mention Bulma’s nails yesterday? Even with how attentive you are, I’m surprised you picked up on something like that being important.”

“You had an emotional event shortly after I came here about breaking one of your long fingernails.”

“Did I?” She looked at her hands, “Oh that’s right! I had to cut them all short then glue on some fake nails for that party. I completely forgot. You have such a good memory about little things.”

“If I was that careless, I would have died as a boy,” Vegeta said through a mouth full of chicken.

Bulma decided to end the conversation and quietly sneaked down the hall. “Hey Mom? Do I smell chicken?” she called out as she walked forward. She walked into the room. “Hello Vegeta.”

Vegeta put his arm around the plate, pulled it close, and shoved more chicken in his mouth.

Bulma walked over to her mother and peeked in the oven. “So, when’s the next batch?”

“I promised these to Vegeta, but I can make a fourth one for us if you want closer to noon,” she said, walking to the fridge to get more eggs.

“I’ll have some coffee then.” Bulma went over to the machine and inserted a cup.

“Shouldn’t you be working on the gravity machine?” Vegeta said after swallowing.

Bulma glanced over her shoulder while waiting on her cup. “It will get done when it gets done. And you are in NO condition to be in hundreds of times gravity.”

“I will ask again,” he said annoyed, “why are you not working on my gravity machine?”  

Bulma huffed and turned her nose up, “Well, Yamcha is coming over and I wanted extra time to prepare.”

“Then why are you wearing white? Earth fabrics seem laughably inefficient at repelling blood.”

“To look pretty.”

“You discover your mate broke the life loyalty rules and your response is to try and look prettier?” Vegeta said in disbelief. “If a man can’t find a female attractive covered in blood and entrails, he does not deserve to reproduce!” he said slamming his palm on the table rattling the dishes. He then pointed at her, “Demand that idiot to look prettier for you.”

Bulma stifled a laugh, “Well if you win, Yamcha will definitely look ‘prettier’.”

Vegeta’s face dropped, “Pretty is a female only word here, isn’t it?”

“For men it’s handsome, Dearie,” Mrs. Brief said.

Vegeta stood, took his plate and left the room.

~~***~~

Some time later, Bulma stood outside Vegeta’s bedroom with a cart.

“Vegeta! It’s time to change your bandages!”

“Fuck off!”

“I also have the books Mom got you! You left before she could put them in there.”

“Don’t care!”

“And the last of your chicken!”

Vegeta opened the door.

Bulma pushed the cart in past him and wheeled it next to the bed.

Vegeta examined it. “You lied about the chicken, didn’t you?”

Bulma pulled a capsule out from between her breasts “You will get it when I’m done.” She began to unpack the gauze and bandages.

Vegeta turned red. “Why the hell are you keeping that there?!”

“So you won’t try and steal it,” she said sitting down. She tapped the bed next to her.

Vegeta growled loudly and slammed the door. He begrudgingly sat on the bed and took off his shirt.

“Oh no,” she said seeing blood along his side and shoulder. She took scissors and cut the wraps. The gauze was soaked. “Looks like you pulled open your stitches. I’m going to need to resew these closed.”

“I’m not forfeiting this bet with that bastard of yours!” he snapped.

“I wasn’t going to ask that. I’ll just clean and tape this up and sew it together later tonight.”

Vegeta blinked. “What?” he asked confused.

“If I sew this and you rip them out again it will just make it harder the second time.”

“Are… Are you also siding with me against your own mate?”

Bulma closed her eyes and blew a hard breath out her nose. “This is going to end badly no matter who wins this,” she said, frustrated. She opened her eyes and pointed in his face. “But after this, you are GOING to REST and let these cuts actually finish healing!”

Bulma was surprised when Vegeta smiled. “As long as that fool actually goes through with wearing those clothes, I can afford to sit back and gloat for a while.”

“And if you lose?”

 “Hypothetically, if the impossible arises and I lose, I’ll be in my room for the same amount of time,” he said dismissively. “So, in either scenario you’ll get what you want from me.”

Bulma was surprised when Vegeta raised his arm without being asked. She began cleaning the cuts.

“Thank you for caring. Even if that’s not how things work on Earth, that was unexpected of you.”

“You’ve stood unflinching while stronger warriors faltered beside you from a young age, if all those trophy images your family displays are to be believed. If your power level equaled your warrior spirit, you’d be ruling the galaxy.” Vegeta turned serious, “That creature is beneath you. Since killing him is beyond your power, permanent exile is the next best option.”

“How do Saiyans handle love?” she asked suddenly.

Vegeta answered instantly, as if he was expecting the question. “Once the required offspring is bred, Saiyans are free to do as we see fit. Even among elites, having multiple children with the same combination was rare.”

“Required offspring?” Bulma asked already knowing the answer.

“Saiyans were matched genetically for the best outcomes. Lower classes didn’t pay much attention for secondary offspring, but elites stayed within those lists of five or six mates at all times.”

“Then there was no love?”

“Dependency was considered a dangerous disease. Politically aligned couples had to be careful or have their families executed to remove the bad genes from the collective race. But it did happen. Raditz and Kakarot’s parents were openly dependent from what Raditz described his home life was like, but they were harmless low-class warriors. I think that’s why my father passed them over. Those laws were one of my father’s greatest hammers, even threatening to spread gossip about the possibility was enough to control the nobility.”

“Do you really think love is a disease?”

Vegeta paused. “Out of all diseases… it seems the most pleasant to be afflicted with… As long as it causes no harm, I see no issue.”

Vegeta looked strongly at her, “But tell me, is Yamcha causing more harm than his pleasantries can justify? Or have you allowed your dependency to change from an inconsequential affliction into a dangerous disease?”

“What do you mean by that?” Bulma asked, offended.

“Exactly what started this conversation. No matter what you do to prove your loyalty, no matter how pretty you make yourself, he does not keep to the life mate your race expects of its members.”

“We’re not married, Vegeta,” she said, frustrated.

“Then even if you’re still in the selection process, you seem to have chosen him, but has he chosen you? Or is he taking advantage of the fact that no matter what he does, all you’ll do is try and make yourself prettier? What advantage does it give HIM to recognize your dependency while not infecting himself with it in return?”  

“Just shut up, Vegeta!”

“Fine by me,” Vegeta looked in the other direction and rested his chin on his hand while she worked.

~~***~~

Bulma sat on the couch flipping through a photo album looking depressed.

“I got your chicken, Sweetie,” Mrs. Brief said as she walked in with a plate and a drink on a tray. She saw Bulma and placed the tray on the coffee table. “What are you looking at that’s got you so down?” she asked sitting next to her daughter. Mrs. Brief saw the album and put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders, “You thinking about what Vegeta said?”

Bulma ran her hand over the pictures of her and Yamcha. “When he died, I realized I still loved him and forgave everything.” She looked at her mom and sniffled, “But he hasn’t changed at all, has he?”

Mrs. Brief pulled her close and pressed her forehead into Bulma’s hair. “Everything will be alright in the end. I’ve always trusted your judgment. Whatever you do, I know it’ll be the right decision.”

“I was hiding by the door and heard you and Vegeta talking,” Bulma confessed.

Mrs. Brief pulled back putting her hands over her mouth. She gasped, “Oh, Sweetie. I didn’t mean to gossip behind your back. It just Vegeta was so confused and—”

“It’s ok, Mom,” Bulma said quietly. “I needed to hear that.” She chuckled while pushing back tears, “Who would have thought a mass murderer would have the best love advice?”

“He’s respects and trusts you, Sweetie,” Mrs. Brief said holding her hand. “I think that’s the crux of everything. We’re not acting like he thinks we should and he can’t understand why. If he didn’t care, then he wouldn’t care. Like how he treated your father and I at first. I mean, he’s still pretty indifferent, but it’s definitely better than it was.”

Bulma shook her head. “Why do you think he trusts me?”

Mrs. Brief gripped her daughter’s hand and tapped the top of it twice. “Bulma. Sweetie.” She answered firmly. “If I had pulled that stunt with your father when we first met, he would have wrapped himself in the shower mat and walked out screaming. Vegeta put those clothes on. Never forget that.”  

Bulma chuckled and wiped a tear, “He looked so miserable in that shirt.”

Mrs. Brief giggled, “Oh he did. That poor Dearie. Bulma, you can be so bad sometimes.”

“But it IS the style here. I didn’t lie,” she continued to laugh.

“You still didn’t need to give him those. Your father has plenty of darker color clothes. You didn’t have to grab Yamcha’s.”

“I don’t think Dad’s would fit. Vegeta has a wider chest.”

Bulma’s laughing dissipated as she looked back down at the pictures. “Vegeta questioned me again about why I was with Yamcha when I was changing his bandages.”

“Oh my.” Mrs. Brief stopped laughing, “It’s not like Vegeta not to drop a subject like that. Is he really that worried about this?”

“I brought it up what he said in the kitchen. But he kept saying how Yamcha was beneath me and how my love was turning into a dangerous disease.”

“Oh dear, that is rather strong wording,” Mrs. Brief said, shocked.

“He said Saiyans believe love is a disease,” Bulma sadly chuckled. “But it was strangely romantic when he said a person should deliberately infect themselves if their mate catches it. Since he thinks of love like Ebola or something.” She wiped away a tear, “Why does everything he say make perfect sense despite it sounding ridiculous?”

“I don’t know. That’s for you to decide,” Mrs. Brief said. She stood. “Eat your lunch quickly so you have time to fix your face. Yamcha and Puar will be here around 2.” She walked away.

Bulma glanced over the pictures one more time, then stared at her palms. _“Fix my face,”_ she thought. _“How many times… have I fixed my face?”_ She formed her fists.

** Day 2: Afternoon **

Bulma knocked on Vegeta’s door. She had some clothes folded in her arms. “Vegeta! It’s almost 2! Time to get ready.”

There was no answer.

“Vegeta!” she knocked again.

After no response she opened the door. Vegeta was fast asleep on the bed with one of the library books opened on his chest. She put the clothes on the nightstand.

“Vegeta. Vegeta!”

Vegeta finally opened his eyes. He blinked. Then he shot up, “What are you doing in my room?! Ever heard of knocking?!”

“I did,” Bulma said putting her hands on her hips. “I’ve been screaming at you for several minutes. It’s almost time to go. I brought warm clothes to help you change into.”

“I don’t need help getting dressed, woman,” Vegeta said, tossing the book to the foot of the bed and swinging his feet around to the floor.

“You will if you don’t want to rip your sides apart before we even get there,” she said. “I have compression clothes to help with your injuries, a long-sleeved shirt and a sweater.” She holds up the shoulder compression sleeve, “Now if you want the best chance to beat Yamcha, let me help you get into these.”

“Tsk. Fine…” Vegeta raised his arm.

She slipped the sleeve over his arm then across his back and over the opposite arm. “Is this all right for you?”

“It honestly doesn’t feel any different than my uniform and armor. If anything, it feels loose.”

“It’s good that you’re comfortable.” Bulma grabbed the compression shirt, “Most people can’t stand wearing these.”

“Your race’s sensitivities are truly laughable.”

Bulma smiled. Then flicked one of Vegeta’s wounds with her finger.

Vegeta chuckled, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to take advantage of my injuries out of spite.” He smiled, “What a very non-Earthling thing to do.”

Bulma glared at him.

Vegeta laughed.

~~***~~

“We’re here!” Yamcha said as he and Puar come into the house. Yamcha threw his jacket and scarf on the coat rack.

“Hello Yamcha,” Dr. Brief said putting his newspaper down. “How are you?”

“Ready to kick Vegeta’s ass,” he said. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Helping Vegeta. Panchy said his side broke open again. Under normal circumstances he should be resting. But things haven’t been normal since he arrived have they?”

“Yeah, no kidding. These three years can’t go fast enough.” Yamcha said sitting down across from him on the couch. He spread his legs and shifted down into the cushions. “Is… Is she doing any better?”

“I have no idea,” Dr. Brief said harshly, “Ask her yourself.”

“Don’t be like that Doc—”

“Hi, Bulma, Mrs. Brief,” Puar said, seeing everyone walk into the room.

“Hello Puar, Sweetie,” she said, “Hi Yamcha. Sorry we took so long. We couldn’t get Vegeta’s hair into a knit hat so we had to find my husband’s ear warmers to hide his head wrapping.”

“Oh?” Dr. Brief turns around. “Wait, is that my blue sweater?”

“Sorry Dad, but I didn’t think Vegeta would wear pink again.”

Vegeta huffed and looked away.

“Well, I must say you look rather sharp in it,” Dr. Brief said standing up, “We’ll need to buy you your own, or me a new one if you get blood on it.”

Vegeta looked at Dr. Brief, “How does fuzzy cloth look ‘Sharp’?”

“Sharp can also mean handsome, Dearie,” Mrs. Brief said.

“Whatever.” Vegeta looked away again, this time with a hint of pink on his cheeks.

“Are you doing ok, Bulma?” Yamcha asked gently as he stood.

“As well as I have been after all of our fights recently.”

Yamcha scratched the back of his head, “Yeah… I guess we have been fighting a lot recently. I’m sorry, Bulma.”

“Let’s just get this farce over with,” Bulma said, walking to the coat rack. She tossed Yamcha’s jacket at him.

“Bulma, don’t be like that,” he pleaded.

Bulma took her coat and walked out the door. Everyone headed into the foyer, but when they went outside, Yamcha was surprised when Bulma was not in the passenger seat of his red convertible.   

An engine suddenly revved and everyone looked as the garage door opened. Bulma swung out the family SUV. She reached over and opened the passage door, “You coming Vegeta?”

Vegeta walked over and climbed in the passenger seat.

“Oh…” Mrs. Brief put her hands over her mouth.

Dr. Brief glanced over at Yamcha. He rapidly went from frozen and speechless to fuming. He stormed over to his car and slammed the door shut after climbing in. He drove off with Puar barely managing to jump in as he sped away.

Dr. and Mrs. Brief climbed in the back seat of the SUV.

“Bulma, do you know what you just did with Vegeta?” Mrs. Brief asked.

“That the ‘shotgun seat’ is reserved for the person most socially close to the driver?” Vegeta turned his head and grinned. “Yes, we discussed this earlier.”

Bulma started laughing, “Did you see his face?! Serves him right!”

“Oh, he was SEETHING,” Vegeta began laughing too. “Too bad you can’t read energy. You could TASTE his emotions all over his presence!”

Bulma touched the screen and set the GPS. “Ok, let’s catch up to Yamcha.”

~~***~~

The group entered the rink from the locker rooms. It was free skate time and the rink was packed with at least 50 people. There were several families with about 20 kids total plus several teenagers. Most of the younger kids were gathered around a young woman with dark lavender hair pulled into a ponytail threaded through a hole in her ear warmers. She seemed to be giving lessons even though it was free skate time.

A man in a suit came over and called out to the woman, waving her over. After what appeared to be an argument between them, the woman skated quickly to the rink door and exited.

As she walked towards the locker rooms,Yamcha started to sweat.

“Yamcha? Is that you?” the woman smiled and walked over.

“Jessica! Hi there,” Yamcha chuckled nervously. “You don’t normally work on Wednesdays?”

“Oh. I haven’t worked as an instructor since I moved to Pepper City, remember? I just saw all these little kids and got nostalgic.” She hugged Yamcha, “It’s so good to see you in person for once! It’s been a couple months.” She looked over at the rest of the group. The one woman looked pissed. “Oh, you must be his new girlfriend,” she bowed in apology. “We broke up years ago,” she chuckled nervously, “I swear we’re just friends.” She takes off her glove showing off a ring on her finger. “See.”

“You’re engaged?!” he said shocked. “When did this happen?”

“Last night!” She almost shouted in excitement.

“Jessica!” the man in the suit yelled from across the room.

“Sorry, the owner wants me off the ice. No free lessons. I need to get the skates off. Pardon me.” She slipped past the group and entered the locker room.

Yamcha looked over his shoulder to discover a furious Bulma. “Oh come on, Bulma. Like she said, we broke up ages ago.”

Bulma took a deep breath. “You’re right…”

“So we going to do this or not?” Vegeta said impatiently.

Then the children who were with Jessica started screaming and crying. Parents started coming over to the ice and pushed past them to the door.

Vegeta growled. He turned to the Briefs, “Aren’t you rich enough for a private match?”

After about 20 minutes of arguing and threats, the parents of the screaming children left. Only four families with older children and teenagers remained. Plus the childless adults, the number of skaters have been cut in more than half.

“Well, I see this incident has worked to our advantage,” Vegeta said standing from the bench. Let’s get this over with.”

“Fine by me,” Yamcha said standing up. Yamcha took the covers off his blades and stepped on to the ice. He was a little wobbly the first few moments but quickly started gliding around.

It was then Vegeta’s turn to step onto the ice. He screamed as he blinked out of existence. Simultaneously, an explosion rocked the opposite side. As the dust settled, a large hole appeared in the rink walls. Vegeta pulled himself out of the twisted metal bleachers behind it. Vegeta had put so much pressure on the blade he had skidded across the ice and crashed through the wall. Luckily, no spectators were behind it.

Cell phones instantly appeared in every hand.

The owner ran the short distance over. Vegeta was on up on his knees but gripping his bad side.

“What the hell did you just do to my rink?!” the owner shouted when he arrived. A tirade of curse words and threats followed.

Vegeta growled as he glared at him.

“Shut up, you fucking Earthling! This doesn’t concern you!” echoed loudly through the open arena.

Bulma glanced frantically around the room. The dropped jaws and shaking cameras meant the people in the room believed him. She was surprised when her father calmly stood by.

“His Majesty is a guest of Earth Special Forces! No need to panic!”

“Who the hell are you?!” someone yelled.

“I’m Dr. Boxer Brief. I’m his sponsor on their behalf!”

Everyone turned back to the rink hearing a new scream. Vegeta was on his stomach near the wall on the opposite side of the hole with a huge pile of flakes at his feet.

“Harder than it looks, isn’t it?” Yamcha said, skating past. As he went past again, Vegeta realized he was skating the promised circles around him.

Vegeta gave a bestial roar as he scrambled to stand but was unable to get off his knees.

“Yamcha don’t provoke him!” Bulma shouted.

Yamcha just laughed and skated away.

Vegeta seethed as he was forced to crawl the few feet to the team boxes, the closest spot where he could get a handhold. When he got there, he was met by Mrs. Brief on the other side of the box glass pressing her hands against the glass.

“Don’t give up, Vegeta! I know you can do this! Just be a little gentler pressing on the ice!”

“I am being gentle, goddess damn it!” Vegeta barked back and climbed to his feet.

“I know you’re trying, Dearie. Don’t get worked up so much or you won’t be able to think straight. That’s when you start breaking things. Just forget that Yamcha’s even here and relax. Even normal people fall all the time, I’m sure Yamcha fell at first too. You both are so much stronger than everyone else.”

_“Because not everyone fights aliens for a living. These are normal people. Now stop interrupting.”_

_“That’s right, the bastard did say that…”_ he thought. _“Normal Earthlings… most of their power levels are one or less… How much fucking more do I need to suppress?! I can’t be more than four or five. I can’t go any lower.”_ He looked at Mrs. Brief, then up at Bulma. He thought of all the times she has changed his bandages the past few weeks. _“I need to be_ that _gentle. Touch the ice like the woman touches me.”_

Vegeta took a deep breath and let it out. He then stepped back out on the ice holding onto the side. Then he let go. He was on his feet. Standing perfectly still, Vegeta incrementally rotated his wrists. When his palms were in front of him, Vegeta started moving backwards. Then he twisted his wrists again and he began to turn. He pointed his palms behind him and he slowly came to a stop. Then he began moving forward.

Yamcha circled him again, “No using your energy. That’s cheating.”

“Shut up! I’m concentrating.”

Yamcha did another turn around him, “Ooo I’m concentrating.” Another turn, “Not as easy as you thought, huh?” Another turn, “Can’t even stay on your feet without cheating, huh?” Another turn, “Guess this means I win.”

“The day’s not over ye—!” Vegeta started to yell and slipped off his feet and landed on his back.

Yamcha laughed as he skated away.

“Leave him alone, Yamcha!” Dr. Brief shouted, “You interfere with him again, we’ll consider it you forfeiting the match!”

“What?! You can’t do that!”

“We can do whatever we want! You didn’t set any rules about judging this farce, did you?!”

Yamcha grimaced and skated away.

Dr. Brief turned back to the owner, “Now there’s no need to call the police or for a lawsuit here. I already said I’d pay for everything.”

“You’ve endangered my customers!”

“The crown prince isn’t remotely dangerous. That was clearly an accident.”

“Crown Prince…” he stuttered before he caught his wits. “Smashing through walls is no accident.”

“Look you,” Dr. Brief was trying hard to stay calm, “You understand what 1G is right? Normal Earth gravity.”

“What does—”

“The gravity unit the rest of the galaxy uses, their equivalent of 1G. The mean gravity of most inhabited worlds in 31.783 Gs on Earth. Being here on Earth isn’t even like being on the moon for him. The moon is only 1/6th of Earth. We’re barely 3% of the galactic standard. Breaking unbreakable stuff comes par for the course for foreign dignitaries.” He pointed at the rink, “And I’m telling you that was a complete accident.”

Back at the rink, Vegeta levitated into the air to the gasps of the crowd. He gently placed his feet back on the ice and continued, this time picking up speed.

“So that’s a real-life alien, huh?”

Bulma looked over as Jessica sat next to her, “So you must be Nancy. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“My name is Bulma,” she answered.

“Oh, I’m so sorry…” Jessica gasped. She looks down at her shoes for a moment. She looked back up. “So you’re the girl he dated back in high school? No offence, but being jealous after a decade isn’t healthy.”

Bulma crossed her arms, “The only time I wasn’t with Yamcha was the year he played baseball.”

“He warned me you would say that if we ever met.”

“No, my daughter is right.” Mrs. Brief said, sitting down on the bleacher below them. “They’ve been a couple this whole time. He lived with us for the first few years, but then he moved out to a nice apartment we got him. Her father and I always assumed it was in preparation for those two moving out together so we haven’t minded paying for it, but it’s been several years now and that hasn’t happened.”

“Why would he need you to pay for his apartment? He’s rich.”

“No, I’M rich,” Bulma stressed growing mad.

Mrs. Brief nodded, “Yamcha doesn’t have a penny to his name. Never has. In fact, he met Bulma when he robbed her and her friends during a road block he and his old gang set up along a country road.”

Jessica gasped and put her hands over her mouth.

Mrs. Brief looked at Bulma, “Actually, didn’t you meet Vegeta the same way? Fighting over the dragon balls on Planet Namek? The type of men you bring home hasn’t changed much has it?” she put her hand to her mouth and laughed.

“Mom! Now’s not the time to make jokes like that.”

Jessica suddenly started to cry and ran off.

~~***~~

Back on the rink, Vegeta slowly came to a stop. He then raised his arms from down along his sides and relaxed his hands. He curled his toes, putting pressure on his right skate. He drifts forward. He then repeated the process with his left. Soon he was moving forward on his own.

The group of teenagers clapped and cheered. “You go, alien dude!” one called out.

Vegeta tried to make a turn as he came to the end of the rink, but the skates slipped out from under him and he fell again.

The group skated over. “Stay down a sec and watch us,” one of the boys said. He started doing a figure eight, “See how little it takes to curve?”

Vegeta watched him for a few completions. “Yes,” he said, rising in the air and placing his skates back on the ice. Vegeta then successfully copied the figure eight.

The teenagers cheered and skated off.

“Hey! No fair! Vegeta’s getting taught what to do!” Yamcha screamed out.

“No more than we’ve been doing all morning!” Dr. Brief turned and called out. “You really think we would let you steamroll him?!”

“What?!” he yelled in disbelief.

Dr. Brief ignored him and turned back to the heavily-armed military SWAT team. “Look, I’m telling you he’s allowed to be here. The Earth Special Forces hired him as a mercenary a few months ago for a three-year contract.”

“And how has he come to stay with you at Capsule Corp.?” the officer demanded.

“Because my daughter is second in command of the whole thing,” he said, looking at his watch, “And since Goku won’t be back from training until later tonight, we’re all you have to talk to.”

“Goku is the ringleader of all of this?”

“There is no ‘ring’ about it.” Dr. Brief answered.

“So, who is this Goku that claims to have the authority to invite aliens to this planet?”

“Son Goku is the man who crushed Emperor Pilaf’s attempt to overthrow the central government, personally destroyed the entire Red Ribbon Army, killed King Piccolo the First and his older children, defeated Piccolo the Second several times, stopped a multitude of random invasions and coup attempts in the meantime, then personally went to space and led the assault that defeated Emperor Frieza and killed his top generals and special forces units at the Battle of Planet Namek. Frieza and the royals got wiped out a year later by us during a retaliatory attack on Earth. Went so quick I doubt it even showed up on the seismographs.”

The soldier’s jaw dropped before tapping his helmet, “Did you get all that?”

Dr. Brief smiled. “By the way, that new communication tech in your helmets is a gift from His Majesty. And once we figure out how to replicate the battle armor into an affordable version for mass production, you will all be wearing new vests thanks to him as well.”

“Is everything all right, Doctor?”

Everyone turned to see Vegeta stopped at the wall.

“Yes! Everything will be fine. They just came because it was reported you broke stuff. This will be resolved shortly. Just focus on skating.”

Vegeta nodded and headed back out to the center of the rink. This time he turned and tried to skate backwards. He managed to do so without falling and even picked up speed. “Haven’t seen you do this yet, Weakling!” Vegeta shouted as he whizzed past Yamcha.

Yamcha glared daggers at him. Then he turned around, but promptly fell on his back when the back of one of the skates jammed into the ice.

~~***~~

In Central City, King Furry had been wheeled into the emergency bunker. He was there with several military generals and cabinet members watching the feeds from the soldiers’ cameras.

The generals and cabinet members are mortified.

“These people assassinated an alien royal family?!”

“These civilians are claiming royal authority to do as they please.”

“Intelligence just got back. Facial ID is a 99% match. He’s one of the aliens who destroyed East City.”

“Planes are in the air. Do you want us to order the airstrike, Sir?”

_“Woo! Spread Eagle!”_

King Furry looked up and saw the alien gliding across the ice with his arms raised in goat horns with a giant grin on his face. He could hear the clapping and cheering of the people in the arena. The man then attempted a spin, but fell hard on the ice. He was gripping his side as he got to his knees. The spectators gasped and showed great concern for this man that had apparently just destroyed part of this building, according to the owner. King Furry began noticing all the people filming on their phones.

“Get me access to the live feeds the spectators have been filming!” he ordered. I want to see for myself what’s been happening.”

“But, Sire—” a cabinet member protested banging his hands on the table.

King Furry made the effort and managed to stand. “I know EXACTLY who Goku is! I’ve met him personally and I already knew over half of that list! He’s the greatest hero in the history of this planet!” He slammed his fist on the table, “Even if he’s one of the men responsible, Goku would have had to not only find reason to spare his life at that time but also discover a reason to trust him not to harm Earth to invite him back.” He leaned over the table in pain, “We will be contacting Goku in the coming hours to find out what has been happening and why he has done what he has done, but right now I see no danger in this man to warrant a military response. It looks like he is just having fun to me.” He crumpled back into his wheelchair. “Now find me those live feeds.”

~~***~~

Vegeta raised his hands in the air as he rapidly spinned. He then dropped his arms and stopped. People clapped. Everyone had exited the rink except for Vegeta and Yamcha at this point, understanding it was a contest.

Yamcha also successfully spun, but not as fast and his spot drifted instead of staying stationary.

The teenagers booed. One shouted, “You stink!”

Yamcha looked around at the otherwise silent crowd. He glared at Vegeta. Then he smirked. Vegeta was pale and breathing hard. It almost looked like he was about to faint.

Yamcha stood straight and skated away. He picked up some speed then tapped his toe pick in and hopped into the air. He landed the small jump then stopped, put his hands on his hips and laughed, “Try that, asshole!”

Vegeta head wobbled and couldn’t stop his eyes widening. Yamcha had a shit-face grin, and it took everything Vegeta had to not blow his head off and spread his brains over the ice.

“You can do it, Dearie!”

Vegeta looked up and saw Mrs. Brief waving. “Just like you practiced all morning! You’ve got this!”

Vegeta straightened his back and nodded. He picked up speed and dug in his toe pick… and fell on the landing. He struggled to get up to his knees again before floating up.

Yamcha responded by skating away and doing another simple jump.

~~***~~

“He’s injured,” King Furry muttered to himself. “Why is he doing this if he’s in such agony?”

A military aide came in and saluted. “Your Majesty, a total of 12 live feeds have been located and analyzed. Two were filming prior to the destruction and recorded it from different angles. Access and time stamps have been added to the computer and are ready to display.”

“Pull it up,” he ordered.

“As you can see,” the aide narrated, “this cell phone caught the alien entering the skating area with Dr. Brief and his family. The man with the scar has been identified as Yamcha, a former baseball player that has been in a multi-year torrid relationship with the doctor’s daughter, Bulma. Soon after this point, a massive dispute began between several families and the staff that lasted over 15 minutes. The alien sat quietly the entire time. We can skip over the argument.” He fast forwarded. “This is the moment of the destruction. After the families leave, he and Yamcha approached the ice. When the alien stepped onto the ice there is a short blur, then the crash and dust on the opposite side of the arena.” He switched views.

“Now, this camera was near the point of impact. This is the live feed being shown by the press. The cameraman seems to be a reporter on a day off using his personal high definition handheld video camera. But as a result of the quality, we were able to slow it down.” He began the slow motion. “Although there is still some blur obscuring his facial expression, you can clearly see he remained on one leg the entire time. His arms also go from his sides as he enters, to fully outstretched, to crossing his arms and hiding his face behind them moments before impact.” He ends the slow motion. “Now at full speed, you can see damage to two wall panels and shattered safety glass across two additional panels at either side. He has impacted and severely bent and twisted two rows of metal seating.”

“He’s been injured,” King Furry said seeing him gripping his side and struggling to move.

“Yes, you can clearly the pain he’s in by his movement and vocalizations. Now this is the point the owner comes over. He is clearly agitated and is using foul language. Here you see him kicking the alien in the side he is holding on to and then the alien exclaims ‘Shut up you fucking Earthling! This doesn’t concern you!’

“After this, he struggles to his feet and again steps onto the ice. Here in slow motion you can see the skates slip from underneath him and again slides to the opposite side. You can see him rotate onto his stomach and the ice flakes flying into the air at his feet. He reaches out and tries to grip the ice with his hands, stopping just prior to a second impact. At this point, the other 10 feeds have begun live broadcasting, all from cell phones with ranging quality. Back at full speed, we can see at this angle he struggles to one of the team boxes. He briefly exited the rink, spoke with Mrs. Brief, then stepped onto the ice. Here he quietly stands in place holding his arms to his sides and slowly begins to glide.” The aide stopped the video. “This lasts several minutes before he started to go faster and tried several maneuvers, falling the majority of the first attempts.”  He turned back to the room, “It is our conclusion in this matter, that the destruction of the wall and seating was an accident and not a deliberate attack.”

King Furry looked at the other monitor showing multiple live feeds on split screen. Vegeta fell again trying to jump as Yamcha continued to mock him and do small jumps directly in front of his face. Vegeta lifted his hand to stop ice flakes from hitting his eyes.

“Forward the video to the city police and recommend an arrest of the owner for assault.”

What? You can’t be serious!” shouted a general. The sentiment was shared by the room.

King Furry pointed at the screens, “If we witnessed a human experiencing what we just saw, would you be making the same decisions? Right now, he is noticeably harmless and in association with people who would not tolerate the presence of a dangerous man. We will find out what is going on soon from Goku, but first, the owner needs to be arrested.”  

~~***~~

“Ms. Bulma.”

She and her mother turned around and saw Jessica walking down from the top entrance of the bleachers.

“I am SO sorry. I had no idea —”

Bulma held up her hand, “Stop. Just Stop.”

Jessica turned to leave.

“Don’t leave. Come sit,” she tapped the spot next to her.

Jessica looked confused.

“You didn’t know, so it was not your fault.” Bulma took a deep breath, “I’m pissed at Yamcha. Not you. Let’s just talk girl to girl.”

“Ah, Sweetie. I’m so proud of you right now,” Mrs. Brief said.

Bulma rolled her eyes, “Mom…”

Jessica started to sit when Bulma jumped up, startling her.

“Come on, Vegeta! I already ordered the ballerina tutus sized for Yamcha, not you! Start landing those stupid-ass jumps!”

Stifled laughs filled the stands. The teenagers, however, were laughing loudly and stepped up their cheering for Vegeta.

~~***~~

Back in the bunker, everyone’s jaws dropped. Except for King Furry, who was chuckling through an ‘I told you so’ grin.

~~***~~

Vegeta gets back on his skates again. He began gaining speed, then started the go into a spin. He rotated several times before hopping into the air during one and landing successfully.

“Did he just do a double loop?” Jessica gasped. “How? He’s been falling on simple toe jumps.”

Bulma stands, “You hear that Yamcha?! A skating instructor just said Vegeta did a harder jump than you called a double loop!”

“What?!” Yamcha screamed. He saw Jessica sitting next to her. “You can’t trust Jessica! She’s my ex! She’s clearly biased!”

Jessica gasped at his sudden cruelty. She looked like she was trying not to cry.

Mrs. Brief turned back from her seat on the row below and took her hand, “Everything will be ok.”

At the entrance to the rink, the soldiers suddenly began glancing at each other. The officer put his hand on his helmet, “Please repeat.”

The soldier took a deep breath. “Everything seems to have checked out. Have a good day, Dr. Brief.” He turned around, “Ok, you heard the orders. We’re withdrawing.”

“What?!” the owner said coming up. “You can’t leave that THING in here!”

“This has been ruled a civilian matter,” the officer said, “The police will be by shortly to take statements.”

The owner bristled as the soldiers turned and withdrew.

~~***~~

Outside, the surrounding streets had been sealed off with a crowd gathered beyond the barricades.

The press corps began to stir.

“And we now have a response from the King Furry himself,” A reporter holding a tablet said. “It simply says ‘The alien in question is a known entity and is of no danger to the population. As such, we are withdrawing all military personnel and leaving any further issues to civilian authorities.’ Nick did you hear what I just said?

“Yes, I did,” said a voice over the phone. Inside, the man with the camera spoke into his phone as he continued to film. “I’m honestly not surprised, considering everything I’ve witnessed. If you did not hear earlier, the woman, whom I believe to be Bulma Brief, shouted at the alien, who seems to be named Vegeta, that she had only ordered ballerina clothing in the other skater’s size. This seems to be a personal bet.

“And if you just missed it, a regional skating competition judge, Jessica Simpson, is here in the stands and when she said Vegeta had completed a harder jump, the other man shot her down calling her biased because she is a former girlfriend. Now for disclosure, she is my daughter’s former skating teacher back when she was part of the West City Figure Skating Circuit, but she has an impeccable reputation for fairness and honesty. Ex or not, that statement is very hard to believe.”

“Thank you for your update, Nick.”  

~~***~~

Yamcha fell a second time.

“Come on Yamcha! You can’t even land a double? Vegeta’s gonna win!” Bulma teased.

Vegeta did a single in front of him.

Yamcha smiled briefly thinking he’d grown tired.

Jessica spoke with Bulma.

Bulma shouted again, “You landed your first toe jump! Jessica said that was called a toe loop!”

Vegeta unexpectedly skated over to the hockey team boxes and leaned on the door. He was breathing very hard.

“Oh no no no no no,” Bulma hopped down the bleachers and ran to the glass. “Vegeta,” Bulma almost slammed into the glass, “Oh God. Tell me you’re not bleeding again.”

“If I leave right now, Yamcha will never admit defeat,” he gasped for air. “He’ll claim he won because I left the ice first.”

Bulma looked at Yamcha. Instead of trying jumps, he was simply skating around the rink with a big grin on his face.

“That bastard is running out the clock. I’ll kill him.”

Vegeta chuckled, “As much as I’d love to see that, I’m not going to let him go to his grave thinking he’s won.” He puts his hand on the glass next to Bulma’s hand, “Do you trust me?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Yesterday, you said you did not trust me because I was careless.” He took a large breath. “Do you trust me now? Can… Can I trust you… now?”

Bulma realized he was looking at her the same way he did when she woke up at his bedside. “I do…” she said earnestly.

Vegeta’s face twisted into a demented smirk, “I’m going to practice a few more things. Then, I’m going to crush him so hard his pride will never recover. Just be ready when I’m done.”

Bulma got a stern look on her face and nodded, “I will.”

Vegeta nodded and skated back onto the ice.

Yamcha death glared Vegeta seeing him come back onto the ice and picked up speed.

Vegeta circled the rink and began doing more single jumps. Bulma went over to her father and whispered in his ear. They nodded to each other and she went back to the stands.

“Toe loop… Flip… Lutz…” Jessica said, “Salchow… Loop… Axel… Axel… Axel…” She looked at Bulma as she walked back up, “He’s running drills. What did the you two talk about?”

Bulma ignored her and whispered in her mother’s ear. Mrs. Brief put her hands to her mouth then scrambled down the bleachers.

“Is everything ok?” Jessica asked.

“Yes, Vegeta just wants to see a doctor after this about his side.”

Jessica looked at the hole in the wall and the broken safety glass. “I see. I guess aliens are only human too…” She looked back at Vegeta. “Axel… Axel… Lutz… He’s practicing his edges.” She looked at Bulma, who had returned to her seat. “He’s about to try something more complicated. A double jump maybe?”

“I don’t know what he’s planning. He just said he was going to do something so dramatic, Yamcha will give up.”

Vegeta did a slow loop around the rink before stopping in the middle to strike a pose. When he started skating, he took an aggressive stance as he began dancing across the ice before lining up and taking position. Vegeta began to skate forward, performing a minor dance sequence before stepping forward into the air.

“Was that a quintuple axel?!” Jessica gasped.

Vegeta jumped again.

“It was!” Jessica stood up. “We all just saw the world’s first quintuples!” she shouted raising her arms high into the air. “And axels beyond that! Woo!” She jumped and started cheering.

Vegeta began doing a serpentine step sequence, twirling across the full length of the arena. He then did another quintuple, this one a Loop, before entering a jump sequence cartwheeling across the ice.

“Death drop, Russian split, Death drop, Russian split…” Jessica says, “That’s von Bignen’s signature move. I thought this looked familiar. He copying his routine from last night.”

Jessica looked over at Bulma. She was wide eyed and pale. “Ms. Brief? Are you alright?”

Vegeta kicked into a flying camel spin then an illusion spin.

“That wasn’t in the routine. He did a Biellmann spin. Then again… neither was the second axel.”

Vegeta suddenly gave a strangled gasp and exited the spin prematurely. He then circled the ring doing simple edge changes and spinning between traveling forward and backwards.

Jessica gasped, “Oh my god, that’s right, he’s injured! I was so excited I completely forgot.”

Vegeta entered a spread eagle. He faced Yamcha who was standing at the far wall.

Yamcha went from dumb shock to crossing his arms.

Vegeta seethed. Then he exited and began gaining speed. A lot of speed.

“What is he doing?” Jessica said.

Vegeta turned backwards. Then gave a massive kick into the ice. Vegeta went high in the air and tilted backwards while starting to spin.

“A spinning backflip?!” Jessica shouted.

Vegeta performed a skilled gymnastic spinning backflip into the air before spreading his arms to stop the rotation. He landed on one foot and immediately kicked into a toe loop. This one was only a triple. Then he added a double toe in complication.

Vegeta skated out over to the center of the rink and entered a spin sequence switching between upright and sitting. He then lifted his foot to attempt the missing Biellmann spin, but only managed a haircutter before giving another strangled gasp and dropping his foot. Vegeta finally entered a final starch spin before stomping his foot.

Vegeta entered the final pose with his left arm down with his shoulders in a straight line leading to his right arm reaching into the air.

Everyone started cheering and many stood up, giving him a standing ovation.

Yamcha growled and ran his hands through his hair in disbelief.

Members of the crowd began getting up from their seats and scrambling over to meet him as Vegeta skated to the rink door.

Bulma met him there. Vegeta was white as a sheet and his eyes were dilated. Blood was beginning to show through his sweater and had gotten all over his black knit gloves. Mrs. Brief arrived with Vegeta’s black parka and wrapped it around his shoulders. He reached for Bulma with his right hand and the two helped him to the bench by his armpits without letting his bloody hand touch them. Bulma quickly began untying and yanking off his skates as her mother helped Vegeta put his left arm through the sleeve and zipper the coat. She also took off Vegeta’s glove and put it in his coat pocket and replaced them with her own wooly mittens.

“Is that all the blood?” Bulma asked.

“That I can see,” Mrs. Brief said, “Let’s get him out of here. He looks bad.”

Bulma put his arm over her shoulders and the two helped him up.

The teenagers come leaping over the seats and reach him first.

“That was a total yeet!” one of the boys said as they arrived. “You really pwned that guy.”

“Oh my goodness,” a girl said seeing Vegeta struggle to stand, “Do you need help?”

“If you could keep the crowd back so we can get to the car, Sweeties, that would be lovely,” Mrs. Brief said.

“Do you need me to call an ambulance?” Jessica asked coming down.

“We’ll be fine, Jessica. Thank you.”

“Don’t make yourself a stranger at Capsule Corp., Dearie.” Mrs. Brief smiled waved goodbye to her.

“Oi! The dude needs a doctor. Back off!” The tallest of the boys shouted as others got close. The group formed a circle as they pushed through into the hallway to the locker rooms and side entrance.

“Guys, I don’t know if you can hear the commotion,” Nick said into his phone and standing back with his camera to get a wider shot. He set his tripod next to a cat that he thought had wandered in, “But the alien seems to be being helped by Bulma and Mrs. Brief towards the locker rooms. Ms. Simpson and that group of teenagers have formed a protective ring around them.”

 _“Does he seem to be hurt in any way?”_ came a voice over the speaker phone.  

“The man seems very pale now that I get a closer look at him. His left arm is also not through his sleeve even though the coat is zipped up.”

_“Thank you for the report, Nick. Keep us updated.”_

The cat slipped away.

With everyone paying attention to Vegeta, Yamcha stepped off the ice, put the guards on his blades and walked away through a different exit from the rink.

In the hallway, He punched a wall. “Kami damn it! Now everyone will be on Vegeta’s side. Now, how am I going to get out of this?”

“Yamcha!” Puar flew up to him, “We have an emergency.”

“Yeah, Vegeta won…”

“No, there was a reporter here the whole time! This has been live all over the news, not just cell phone video.”

“Great… Just great… and Bulma shouted my name too. How am I going to pick up girls after this?”

“Yamcha…” Puar sighed.

~~***~~

Out in the parking lot, Vegeta was being loaded into the SUV when several police cars pull into the parking lot with their lights and sirens on. The officers come out of their vehicles and approach the group.

“Turn that vehicle off and everyone step away from the vehicle,” one officer ordered.

“This dude needs to get to hospital, officer,” one of the boys said.

He placed his hand on his gun. “I said step away from the vehicle. I will not say again.”

Two officers drew their guns, but kept them lowered.

Jessica walked backwards with her hands in the air. The teenagers followed.

“Vegeta’s bleeding to death, and they want us to what?!” Bulma shouted coming out of the back seat on the opposite side of the SUV.

“Hands in the air!”

“Bulma, now’s not the time!” Dr. Brief shouted out the window turning the SUV off. He stepped out with his hands up.

“Please, Dearies,” Mrs. Brief asks, “Vegeta’s really bad. We need to get him home.”

“If he’s bleeding to death, why are you taking him home?” the officer shouted.

“Shut up, Bulma!” Dr. Brief shouted preemptively. He turned back to the cops. “Because Prince Vegeta is the alien you’re probably all on edge about. And the compound has the only medical unit capable of keeping him alive. Now the government already gave us the all clear. There is no need for this.”

“Alien! Exit the vehicle!” a different officer shouted, taking his own gun from its holster.

Vegeta carefully slid from the back seat and stood facing the cops. He reached for his zipper.

“Hands in the air!”

Vegeta unzipped his coat in a barely visible blur, then slowly raise both arms. His coat fell away revealing the giant red stain on the light-colored inner fleece. He then reached and pulled up the sweater, showing a soaked light blue sweatshirt. “Get out of our way,” he snarled.

The first officer grabs his hand radio. “The alien has been encountered and is bleeding heavily from his left side. We will be escorting a black SUV to Capsule Corp. to specialized facilities there. Get ready to open the barricades and clear the crowds.”

“Crowds?” Vegeta said.

“Williams! Bayer! With me. Everyone else head inside.”

Three sets of officers re-entered their cars. The rest parked and headed inside.

“In the car, Vegeta, hurry,” Mrs. Brief said and Dr. Brief shoved him into the back.

Bulma entered from her side of the SUV and Dr. Brief jumped in and turned the key.

“Bulma?” Vegeta looked over. “What did he mean by…” He closed his eyes.

** Day ?: Morning **

Vegeta opened his eyes and saw a familiar ceiling. He looked to his side, but Bulma wasn’t there at the table. Confused, he looked to his other side. Beside him was another bed. And there was Bulma, in an almost translucent nightgown only half covered by the blanket. The lower half.

Vegeta turned beet red and quickly turned his head. He moved his left arm and guessed correctly it was unencumbered. He pulled the blanket over his head.

Unfortunately, his blood pressure spike and sudden rapid heart beat set off the meter alarm.

Bulma jolted awake. “AH! Vegeta!” She darted over to the bed and pulled the blanket down.

“Woman!” Vegeta shouted, pulling the blanket back up.

“Vegeta! You’re awake?! Oh, god. You’re all red!” She tried to pull the blanket off again but he held firm.

“Put some clothes on, you Vulgar Woman, and I won’t be!”

“What do you mean,” she looked down at her top. “I’m perfectly decent.”

“They’re visible! All of it! If you really care about my wellbeing, cover up!”

A nurse ran in, “What’s wrong?”

“Tell that woman she needs to cover up! For the love of the goddess!” Vegeta shouted.

“Fine! I’ll change my bed shirt!” Bulma grabbed some clothes and walked into the attached bathroom. She slammed the door.

Vegeta uncovered his head. He saw the nurse resetting the alarm. “So how long have I been out?”

“About 14 hours. I’ll alert the doctors you’ve awoken. They will be in soon.” He left the room.

“I’m back,” Bulma said. She was in Capsule Corp. t-shirt and sweatpants. “Does this please your Majesty?”

“Very,” he said, relaxing. His color started to return to normal.

Bulma looked at the clock. “What is it about you waking up at 6 a.m.?” She yawned. “No matter when you go to bed, you always snap awake at 6.”

“Would you rather I still be asleep?”

“No,” she said startled. “Vegeta, you almost died…” she said softly.

“What else is new?”

“Vegeta!”

“Don’t you think I noticed what was happening with my own body?! I asked you for back up for a reason!”

“Wait, if I had said no, would you have quit?”

“I could always kill Yamcha later,” he said matter-of-factly.

Vegeta looked up at the IV bags. He squinted. “Two of those bags have yellow-backed lettering on them. What is it?”

“One is the antibiotic. The other bag has medicine to help your body accept the blood transfusion.”

“I’ve had blood substitute transfusions before. No need for such caution.”

“…We don’t have blood substitute, here.”

“What?!” Vegeta tried to sit up, but fell back grimacing in pain.

A knock came at the door, “It’s Dr. Reynolds. May I come in?”

“Yes,” Bulma called out.

He opened the door and entered.

“What the hell did you put in my veins?!”

“We tested your blood with everything we have on this planet. It came back as human of O+ type. After confirming the tests that came back as human and the Briefs saying our species have interbred before, we proceeded with the transfusion with all available medications to prevent a serious reaction. You handled it without any issues. Human bodies will completely replace plasma in 48 hours and red blood cells in a month. We did notice a higher density of red blood cells in those samples, so we will be keeping you on oxygen until your densities return to those levels.”

“So I’m on my ass for a month?”

“You also destroyed any healing your body had done previously and caused additional damage to those areas. We had to cut away old scar tissue to close the wounds properly and applied stronger adhesives and extra dissolvable stitches. So add another two to four weeks on top of that.”

Vegeta rubbed his forehead. “Perfect…”

“You are scheduled for blood drawing and wound assessment and cleaning at 10 a.m.,” the doctor said. “You will be on clear fluids and soft foods for the first week. It is our understanding that your species has higher calorie and nutritional needs. Supplements will be added to your meals once your digestive track stabilizes over the next few days. Is there anything else you wanted to know?”

“When’s breakfast?”

“I would expect it around 8 o’clock.”

“You’re dismissed,” Vegeta ordered.

The doctor nodded and left the room.

Vegeta looked at Bulma, who was yawning and stretching again. “Where is the monitor control stick?”

“The remote in the drawer,” Bulma walked over to the table and pulled it out, “This one doesn’t have voice controls. Do you want me to show you the buttons or have me do it?”

“You can do it,” Vegeta said, “But I choose what we watch.”

Bulma turned on the TV. A morning talk news program was on with an over-the-shoulder picture of Vegeta mid air during a jump from the day before.

_“In our top story this morning, everyone is still talking about the alien that skated into the hearts of West City yesterday. Both the government and Capsule Corp. are being tight lipped, so no new information is known other than what we learned from the footage. A foreign royal named Vegeta was in a skating contest with a family friend of the Briefs named Yamcha, with whom he seemed to share a great deal of animosity. From there, we watched him going from constantly falling to copying almost move per move Hans von Bingen’s short program in a little under two hours.”_

_The camera picture switched to a full view of the hosts sitting around on a couch. “And doing it injured,” one of the female co-anchors added, “He was clearly in pain after he slipped and slammed through the wall. Even if his species’ superior strength allowed him to perform such amazing feats, he still did it injured. Some witnesses who got close to him reported that he was bleeding and his clothes were dripping blood.”_

_“I think those kids were exaggerating,” a different male co-anchor said, “I highly doubt a royal would allow himself to bleed to death over such a silly bet.”_

“Well, fuck you!” Vegeta shouted at the TV.

_“In other news, the owner of that skating rink posted bail after being arrested for simple assault. Nick Wagner, cameraman for EBC affiliate WSYC, recorded him kicking Vegeta while he was in agony on the ground right after the impact.”_

“I wasn’t in agony…”

“Vegeta you screamed so loud I heard you on the other side,” Bulma said rolling her eyes.

“Change the fucking channel,” Vegeta huffed.

Bulma chuckled and began flipping through channels. “There won’t be much on this early in the morning other than the news.”

“Not even the war channel?”

“War channel?”

“You know, the one that tells all those war stories. Cowboys, Grant and Lee, Nazis, Vietnam, the ice cream emperor, all of that.”

“The ice cream emperor?”

“Yes, the ice cream emperor,” Vegeta said frustrated.

Bulma thought for a moment. Then she looked at the TV, went into the menu and selected a channel. A documentary on the Battle of Waterloo comes on. 

“See! Ice cream emperor,” Vegeta pointed at the TV.

“Napoleon…” Bulma facepalmed. Then her stomach growled. “Time for breakfast, I guess…”

“Bring two spoons!” Vegeta called over as she left the room.

Bulma closed the door, then stopped as a thought popped in her mind. She looked back at the door, then walked off.

~~***~~

Shortly before 8 a.m., Vegeta and Bulma were finishing off a quart of Napoleon ice cream watching the History Channel.

“Vegeta, did you REALLY forget Napoleon’s name? You seem to remember everything in these shows pretty well.”

“Are you saying you don’t appreciate the chance for ice cream?”

“I don’t appreciate being manipulated,” she poked Vegeta’s shoulder.

“All I did was ask for a spoon. Besides, would the Prince of All Saiyans really resort to eating something as unhealthy as ice cream without it being forced upon me?” Vegeta took a large scoop of the strawberry. “This red stripe looks especially unhealthy.” He stuck the whole thing in his mouth at once.

“All right then,” Bulma took the carton and walked to a chair opposite of the bed. “Since this is OBVIOUSLY so bad for you in your condition, I’ll just have to rescue you from being force fed by eating it all myself.” She then proceeded to slowly eat it in front of him, smiling as Vegeta glared daggers at her.

“Oh, Vegeta, Dearie! I heard you were finall— Bulma, what are you doing here?”

“I’ve been here all night. What’s up?”

Mrs. Brief pointed back out the hallway, “But I just saw you walk out of your labs and asked your father if he knew where the dragon radar was.”

“What?!” Bulma jumped up and ran from the room.

“At least give me back the ice cream!” Vegeta shouted after her.

~~***~~

Bulma ran into her lab. “No! No! No!” she started rummaging through the room.

“Bulma, what’s going on?” Dr. Brief said coming into the room. “Goodness,” he said seeing the room, “Let me help!”

“Dad! Mom said someone who looked like me asked where the radar was. What did you say to them?!”

“Wait, that wasn’t you? I just said ‘wasn’t it in your lab?’ and you walked back.”

“I want my ice cream back.”

They look out the door and see Vegeta supporting himself on his IV stand with a sheet tied around him in a suspiciously neat tunic. Mrs. Brief stood next to him holding something in a towel with a tube running from it under his sheet.

Dr. Brief blinked. “Honey, are you carrying his catheter?”

“He was going to rip it out. Better safe than sorry, all things considered.”

Vegeta looked around, “So someone ransacked your office and stole the radar?”

“No! They CLEANED and stole the radar!”

“What?” Vegeta asked confused.

“Someone sorted through my stuff and systematically searched through it!”

“Geniuses are messy, Vegeta,” Dr. Brief said.

Vegeta pressed his face into his hand on the pole, unable to facepalm normally. He looked around the room again. “Why is there an outside bird in here?”

Bulma looked over at the window and ran to it.. “The screen’s gone.”

“Wait… There’s a fucking CAMERA in this room! Why are you wasting time and just look at the fucking video!”

“Vegeta you’re a genius!” Bulma went over to her computer.

“Well obviously not because my room’s actua— no wait. Shut up!” Vegeta snapped.

Bulma pulled up the images.  

_A box cutter appears in the window and cuts the screen away. Then the windowpane lifts._

“Puar!” Bulma screamed, seeing him climb in.

“Well that explains it…” Dr. Brief sighs frustrated.

“Explains what?”

“Puar is a shapeshifter, Vegeta,” he answered.

Vegeta’s eyes widened. “…If I was standing on any other planet… I’d call Caca shit...”

Bulma fast forwarded through the recording. Vegeta blinked seeing Puar shapeshift, leave then come back and return to normal. Bulma paused the video when Puar exited. “7:34.” Bulma looked at the clock, “almost 40 minutes ago.”

“Now, what I can’t figure out is why the hell would Puar and Yamcha steal the radar,” Dr. Brief said, looking around at the three.

“They don’t want us knowing what they’re doing!” Vegeta said exasperated, “Why else do you steal stuff fo—” he suddenly became dizzy and Dr. and Mrs. Brief rushed to grab him and gently lowered him to the floor.

Bulma gasped but did not turn around. She bit her lip and started crying still facing the computer.

Mrs. Brief placed his tubing on the floor and knelt next to him.

“I’ll go get the nurses to get you back to bed,” Dr. Brief said and left the room.

Bulma started shivering.

“Bulma, Sweetie. Everything will be…”

Bulma suddenly raised her arm and pounded her desk so hard everything rattled. “That son of a bitch! He would violate me like this?!”

Vegeta lifted his head.

“Sweetie pie?” Mrs. Brief’s voice quivered. She reached out to touch her to calm her down.

“No!” Bulma stood violently, her chair flying backwards and hitting her mother.

“He doesn’t want us to know! Know all of this!” She slammed desk. “Know that he’s cheated!” _Slam_ “Know that he’s been using me!” _Slam_ “Know that Vegeta cares about me!”

“What!? Not like that, you crazy bitch!” Vegeta yelled from his spot on the floor.

Bulma looked at the clock again, “And that flying bastard has almost an hour head start with no way to track him!”

“Just use a second radar,” Vegeta said, his speech becoming slurred.

“There’s only the one, Vegeta!”

“Get Kakarot,” Vegeta said slurred, “Have him teleport and intervene.”

“It’s the middle of the day over there! He’s god knows where in the woods with no way to reach him!”

Mrs. Brief got up, put her hands on both her shoulders, and pulled her crying daughter into a half hug. “Now Sweetie, there’s no need to panic here. Let’s just call Yamcha on his cell phone and talk this out.”

Bulma’s eyed widened. “Yamcha’s cell phone?” she said hopefully.

Mrs. Brief puts her hands over her heart and smiles. “Yes, just call Yamcha and everything will be fine.”

Bulma sat back down, but logged into the computer instead of picking up the phone.

“Sweetie what are you doing?” Mrs. Brief looked over her shoulder.

Bulma logged into her cell phone carrier’s website. She activated the Find Phone feature on Yamcha’s phone, as it was on her family’s account. She pulled out her cell phone from her pocket and opened the app, turning on the GPS and map function. The blip was moving rapidly at a high altitude. Bulma smiled, seeing it was working. She went back to the screen. She did a few more things Mrs. Brief did not understand, then logging out and turned off the computer. She walked out of the room without a word.

~~***~~

Vegeta was lying unconscious in his bed again, his oxygen mask firmly returned to his face.

Dr. Brief and his wife were cuddling on the living room couch. Mrs. Brief was just starting to calm down after bursting into tears while being berated by the medical staff for taking Vegeta off his oxygen.

A security guard jogged into the room. “Forgive me for coming into the private sector, doctor. But there are police in here with a search warrant. They are on their way here.”

“What? But why didn’t you call me?”

“Your phones were unresponsive.”

Dr. Brief stood up as the police entered the room.

“How may I help you gentleman?” he asked.

“Yours and your wife’s cell phones were reported stolen through your carrier. Their tracker said they were still in the building.”

“That’s nonsense,” he said reaching into his pocket. He pulled out his phone, “I have it right here.” He pushed the button to pull up the lock screen. Nothing happened. “What the heck?” he said as he continued to push the button.

“The phone was remotely locked the moment it was reported stolen,” one of the officers said.

Dr. Brief turned to his wife, “Honey, why don’t you try yours?”

Mrs. Brief pulled her phone out. “No, it’s not working either.”

He looked back at the police. “How the hell were these reported stolen in the first place?”

“Through your account at your carrier’s website,” the officer said.

The other officer pushed the button on his hand radio, “This is Officer Jenkins. The cell phones have been located. They were never missing in the first place. We are now investigating how this false report was filed.”

“Well then, I’ll just log into my account and clear this whole mess up,” Dr. Brief said walking out of the room.

“Hey wait a moment!” Officer Jenkins ran after him.

His partner helped Mrs. Brief up and they followed.

~~***~~

Dr. Brief sat at his desk and turned on his computer. Officer Jenkins stood behind him.

“We’re here,” his partner said as he and Mrs. Brief walked into the room.

Dr. Brief pulled up the website and tried to log in. He got a wrong password warning.

“What? What the hell?” he said trying to log in again.

Another wrong password warning.

“I’ve had the same password for 30 years, you stupid thing,” he said continuing to hit the keys.

“Is that how you make a phone say stolen? I saw Bulma on it after you left.”

Dr. Brief turned around. “Are you sure?”

Mrs. Brief nodded. “Yes. I thought I had calmed her down by saying she could just call Yamcha and everything would be fine. But she went onto that picture on the computer and did some things and she left without…” Mrs. Brief suddenly put her hands in her hair, “Oh no! With Vegeta sick, I completely forgot to call Yamcha!” She pulled out her phone, but it did not respond. She looked up at her husband. “Sweetie! Sweetie! Make the computer turn the phone back on.”

“I can’t.”

She grabs his shoulders, “But I don’t know his number off the top of my head! Do you know…”

Dr. Brief grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands away. “Honey!”

She started to whimper.

He sighed, “I know you can’t stand fighting, but this is between the kids now. Bulma obviously does not want us interfering this time.”

Mrs. Brief dropped to her knees and started crying.

“Could you please detail this domestic incident?”

“It’s none of your business,” Dr. Brief snapped trying to calm his wife again.

“Sir. Your daughter committed a serious crime by reporting those phones stolen.”

“Then talk to my lawyer and get out of my house!”

~~***~~

Out in the desert, Yamcha tossed a backpack on the ground. Three dragon balls rolled out. He sat down in the shade of the small cliff, hyperventilating, and took a plastic water bottle out of its webbed side pockets. He took a swig and looked at his watch. It said 9:38. His arms flop to his side. Yamcha sighed, “Everything is almost over.”

He sat there catching his breath, relaxing in the shade. He again reached for the bag and took out a couple granola bars and began eating.

~~***~~

Bulma had been flying balls to the wall for an hour. Yamcha had been pushing himself near the speed of sound and her plane just couldn’t keep up. She had no idea he could go that fast, but even if she took the private jet, it would take an hour to prepare and she did not have a supersonic pilot license. But luckily, he had not doubled back and discovered she was tailing him. This was his seventh stop, and he had flown much slower getting there. He had all seven dragon balls now, and now he was slinking to the middle of nowhere to summon away from prying eyes. Warning alarms had been screaming for over 15 minutes and her dash lit up like a Christmas tree. She didn’t care. If Yamcha succeeded, none of this would matter.

Suddenly there was a loud bang. Then a second. Then silence. The emergency electrical power kicked in. Bulma looked at her dash for the first time in 30 minutes. One of those alarms was the fuel. Her constant use of the afterburners had eaten through the half tank.

Bulma began dropping like a rock. The small cargo plane did not have the wing surface to effectively glide. The autopilot kept overriding her attempts to get in a landing position and kept tilting the nose down in stall recovery. She turned it off, and deadweight released the landing gear. They held on impact and she skidded to a hard stop in a small sandy rise.

Bulma trembled hard as she unbuckled herself. She grabbed for her phone and pulled off the whole suction cup holder. The app said she was still over 16 miles away. Bulma stumbled out of the plane into the sand. She reached into her shirt and pulled out her box of capsules. She popped out her crescent windshield motorcycle and popped on the suction cup holder. She took off skidding through the small pockets of sand and dust as she accelerated.

~~***~~

Yamcha finished his snack and stood up. He stretched then put the loose dragon balls back in the backpack and carried it a few feet to an open patch of hardpan, where he dumped them out.

“Eternal Dragon! I summon you to grant my wish!”

~~***~~

Bulma heard the crashing thunder and the sky turned dark. She saw the dragon rise. She cranked the speed even higher even though the needle had already capped out. Suddenly, she went airborne.

~~***~~

“… except—” Yamcha thought he heard an engine and turned around. He was met with a tire to his face.

~~***~~

Bulma screamed as she went through the air. It felt like she hit something midair, but managed to stick the landing. She thought she saw the dragon out of the corner of her eye, and checked her mirrors. She hit the brakes and turned around.

Bulma saw Yamcha twitching on the ground with giant skid mark up the center of his body when she rolled up. She stopped herself from caring.

“Dragon! Cancel Yamcha’s wish and grant mine!” she shouting hopping off the bike.

“I cannot do that,” Shenlong said. “Name the final person.”

Bulma’s heart broke. “What person? What was the wish?!”

“‘Turn back time three days to the moment where Mrs. Brief noticed she forgot the popcorn but before she stood to leave to retrieve them, so that no one remembers what happened the past few days except me and…’” he repeated. “Name the final person!” Shenlong shouted.

Bulma dropped to her knees. She was too late.

“Name the final person!” Shenlong shouted again.

“Me! The final person is me!”

“Your wish has been granted.”

Bulma’s vision blanched white briefly before everything went dark. She was back in the media room.

She saw her mother place the tray down on the coffee table and sit down.

Mrs. Brief gasped, “Oh! I forgot the popcorn!”

“That’s alright, Mrs. Brief. I got it,” Yamcha said, standing up.

“Are you sure, Dearie?”

“Oh no problem, ma’am. I’ll go get it.”

Bulma stood. “Oh Yamcha?” she said sweetly.

He turned around. “Yeah bab—”

Bulma punched him in the face.

** Day 1 Redux: Evening **

Vegeta threw his drying towel on the floor and unzipped his waterproof shirt that woman made him wear during showers. At least he was healed enough from the explosion she would let him shower— and _alone_.

He grabbed two small hand towels and wetted one in the sink. He wiped himself down, careful not to get his bandages wet, then dried himself with the other.

Vegeta walked from the ensuite into his bedroom and put on his shorts. He was about to put on sweatpants when he heard a loud bang. He recognized it as a gunshot in the back of his mind, but assumed it was the TV. It was time for those justice system dramas the doctor watched. He threaded his first leg when he heard two more bangs. Those sounded closer. Then a high-pitched female scream.

 _“That not the TV!”_ Vegeta thought. He put his final leg through and ran out the door.

Vegeta rounded a corner and almost got run over by Yamcha. He watched Yamcha continue through the intersection.

“Get out! Get out! Get out!” _Bang._

Vegeta saw the bullet whiz past. He looked around the corner and saw Bulma with a pistol.

“Get out of my house!”

As hilarious as he thought this was, breaking ‘Thou shalt not kill’ on this planet was a really big deal. Vegeta reached out and grabbed Bulma as she ran past.

“Let me go!” she screamed wheeling around to pistol whip whoever just stopped her. Bulma’s eyes widened seeing Vegeta. She put her hands on either side of his head and made a small gasp.

Vegeta froze. He had seen this on the matron’s soap stories. She was about to kiss him!

Bulma hugged him around his neck. “You’re ok! You’re not on life support. You’re ok…”

“Child, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” Dr. Brief yelled as he caught up with her.

Then they heard breaking glass.

The three walked into the sunroom and saw a large broken window. They heard wheels screeching and saw Yamcha’s red convertible speed away.

Bulma shifted her arms, suddenly making Vegeta aware she still had her arms around his neck.

“Dah! Get off me, woman!” Vegeta ducked under her arms.

Before she could respond, Dr. Brief grabbed her shirt, pulled her down to his height and pointed back the way they came. “Explanation. Now!”

~~***~~

Dr. Brief dragged his daughter back to where Mrs. Brief was on her knees crying in the hallway. Puar was trying to calm her down.

“Now, young lady,” Dr. Brief let go of her wrist. “Explain to all of us why you suddenly went from cuddling to murdering in less than a second!”

“It wasn’t sudden for me!”

“And why is that?!” he yelled.

“Yamcha stole the dragon balls to turn back time so I wouldn’t break up with him!” She started to cry, “He’s a cheating, manipulative piece of shit! He was just going to have me cuddle and probably have sex like nothing happened after everything we all went through! The lies! The thief! The humiliation! Everything!” She put her face in her hands, “He violated me! He violated me so I’d keep fucking him, that bastard!”

Vegeta slammed his arm against the wall leaving a large indent and cracking plaster up and down the wall. “That’s unforgivable! You’re not some kept woman. You’re his proper mate! Erasing everyone’s memories and manipulating you like that!” He formed his fist and put it over his chest. “Let me execute him for you. Unlike that projectile weapon, I won’t even leave ash to trace.”

“Bulma I’m so—” Puar began.

Bulma spun around. “No, you’re not! You took the radar! You cut open my office’s window screen! Went through my stuff! And when you couldn’t find it, you shapeshifted into me to get my parents to tell you were it was!”

“Oh! Sweetie,” Mrs. Brief raised her arms, “Come here baby. You need a hug.”

Bulma knelt down and they hugged.

Dr. Brief closed his eyes, “Puar. Please leave this property. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Bu—”

“Puar!” he shouted.

“Ok,” he said, starting to fly away before looking back. “Good bye everyone.” Then he left.

Once Puar was out of sight. Dr. Brief joined the hug of his daughter. “I’m so sorry, my poor baby,” he whispered.

“Wait…” Vegeta said. “Bulma. If he did that, how are you here now?”

Bulma wiped her eyes. “I wasn’t able to track him down before the summoning, so I ran him over with the motorcycle to stop the wish. But the dragon said I had to finish his wish, so all I could do was add myself.”

Vegeta started to laugh. “That must have been glorious!” He kept laughing, but then he grabbed his side.

Bulma reached for him in panic before stopping herself. Vegeta was confused at the look of terror on her face. Then he remembered.

“Woman, when you first saw me, you wrapped your arms around me crying that I wasn’t on life support. What the hell happened to me?”

Bulma started crying again, “Yamcha challenged you to a stupid bet. You won, but your side broke open and you almost bled out.”

Vegeta clenched his fists, “So he not only stole your honor but mine as well… what realm of combat did I defeat him in?”

“Figure skating.”

“Figure what now?”

“It’s a sport here. The Olympic competition is going on right now. When Mom went to get popcorn, she came back with you and you watched it with us.”

“Is that why Yamcha really offered to get the popcorn tonight?” Mrs. Brief turned pale.

“I’m sorry Mom…”

“So… how close was the victory?” Vegeta asked.

“You fell a lot at first, which is how you ripped your side open, but once you caught your balance,” Bulma smiled, “you humiliated him. You had the entire crowd cheering for you and you were being praised on the news the next morning.”

Vegeta smirked, “Well then. Let’s go watch this Olympics.”

Bulma wiped her eyes. “You want to go watch?”

“Of course, I want to watch! Did you think I wouldn’t want to know how I delivered such a humiliating public defeat on that asshole?”

“Yes. Yes! Let’s just watch figure skating! Nice relaxing figure skating. I’ll go grab that popcorn!” Mrs. Brief ran off.

** Day 2 Redux: Morning **

Yamcha woke up in his apartment and stretched in bed. He didn’t notice his window slightly open. He sat up and slipped on his house slippers before heading over to his closet and opening the folding doors. He saw nothing but glittering pink tutus and ballerina slippers.

“Puar!”

Puar jumped out of his cat bed. “Are you ok, Yamcha?!” he said startled.

“Did anyone come into the house last night?!”

“No.”

“Then how do you explain this?!”

He flew over. “Oh, no. I don’t know how this happened, Yamcha. No one came in last night, I swear.”

“Perfect… Now I need to go out in my pajamas to buy new clothes,” he lamented. Yamcha walked to his bathroom, switched slippers then opened the sliding doors and stepped in. He closed the door behind him but quickly cracked it open again and tossed his clothes on the floor. The shower turned on shortly after.

Puar took the clothes and placed them on his bed. Then suddenly, he blacked out.

Fifteen minutes later, Yamcha came out of the shower in a towel. He saw Puar face down on the floor with a bump on his head. On the bed where his clothes should be was a rainbow sparkle cape with “I CHEATED SO MY EX GF TOOK MY CLOTHES” in large yellow letters.

~~***~~

“Bulma! Vegeta!” they heard him scream from outside his apartment building. Bulma and Vegeta laughed as they drove off in his red convertible car.

“So, he was passing of your family’s wealth as his own?”

“That’s what Jessica said when we talked. He’s been pretending to be a single rich guy to lure in girls.”

Vegeta was in the passenger seat looking at a watch on his wrist. “So, you invented this this as a teenager?”

“Yep!”

“On any other occasion, I’d call a shrinking device frivolous nonsense, but I stand corrected on its usefulness.” He glanced around the car. “So, what is this? It looks different than the transportation vehicles I’ve seen on the road by your family’s estate.

“It’s a Lamborghini super muscle car.”

“Super muscle, huh? Must be worth a small fortune.”

“Oh, it is.” She says stopping at a red light. “It also has my name on the title and it’s on my insurance policy. This thing is MINE NOW.” Bulma cackled.

Vegeta grinned. “Vengeance is a beautiful emotion, isn’t it?”

A jacked-up truck painted in flames pulled up alongside. The driver hung out his window. “Hey baby, why not ditch the ugly dude and get yourself a real man?”

Vegeta twirled his finger, “Nice paint job. Dude.”

Bulma burst out laughing then squealed out on the green light.

“Do you have any idea on what you just carved into his door with your energy?!”

“Our species’ anatomy is identical. And I think I have a good grasp on the meaning of that particular symbol.” He chuckled, “Besides, as you say, ‘It takes one to know one’.”  

Bulma continued to laugh. Then she raised both arms in the air and screamed “Woo!”

“So, when are we heading to the ice rink?

“Vegeta!” Bulma shouted randomly slapping with her left hand in his general direction.

Vegeta put his arms up pretending to defend himself. “Ok. Ok,” he laughed, “No skating.”

Bulma stopped smacking him and he put his arms down.

“But seriously, what now?” Vegeta asked.

Bulma thought for a few moments. “How about watching the war channel with some Napoleon ice cream?”

Vegeta’s eyes widened. Then he smiled, “Watching genocide while eating ice cream sounds wonderful.”

 


End file.
